


The Boy-Who-Couldn't-See: Year 3 [on hiatus]

by ahoeinplainsight



Series: Blind!Harry [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alternate Canon, Angry Harry Potter, BAMF Harry Potter, BAMF Hermione Granger, BAMF Ron Weasley, Blind Harry Potter, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Canon Compliant, Canonical Child Abuse, Confused Harry, Confused Harry Potter, Disabled Character, Disabled Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy Being an Asshole, Harry Being Harry, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley Friendship, Harry Potter Being an Idiot, Harry Potter Has a Crush, Harry Potter Has a Saving People Thing, Harry Potter is Bad at Feelings, Harry Potter is So Done, Harry Potter is a Good Friend, Harry Potter is a Little Shit, Harry Potter-centric, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Hermione Granger is So Done, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Not A Fix-It, Oblivious Harry, Oblivious Harry Potter, Oblivious Ron Weasley, POV Harry Potter, POV Third Person Limited, Powerful Harry, Protective Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Remus Lupin is Bad at Feelings, Remus Lupin is So Done, Remus Lupin is a Little Shit, Ron Weasley Being an Idiot, Ron Weasley is Our King, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Severus Snape Bashing, Severus Snape Being a Bastard, Sirius Black Being Ridiculous, Sirius Black Being an Idiot, Sirius Black Needs a Hug, Sirius Black is a Little Shit, Smart Harry, Smart Harry Potter, Supportive Ron Weasley, and remus is a werewolf, as his godfather is a dog, harry is scared of dogs :), this is very important, whoo boy harry is in for a fucking adventure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26549845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahoeinplainsight/pseuds/ahoeinplainsight
Summary: Harry, now in his third year, was really looking forward to having a normal year. But now there's dementors at Hogwarts, Hermione's cat won't stop attacking Ron's rat, and Harry's murderous godfather Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban. He just can't catch a break, can he?// also on wattpad under the same username and title :)
Relationships: Angelina Johnson & Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Fred Weasley & George Weasley, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood, Remus Lupin & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin
Series: Blind!Harry [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1802449
Comments: 222
Kudos: 295





	1. Owl Post

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to year 3!! sirius is here and remus is here and i'm so excited! every chapter will follow each chapter of the actual book and a lot will copy and pasted (like... a lot. that's your warning) also i don't own harry potter and don't plan on making any profits off this story  
> enjoy!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we have made it. year three. i'm so excited.
> 
> i mention and hint at past abuse a few times 
> 
> if i need to put any other trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

Harry sighs quietly, turning the page of his book.

It’s late, probably nearing midnight, and he’s lying on his stomach in his bed and doing homework. And he’s  _ happy  _ about it. Ron would be disappointed in him.

His essay is supposed to be about why witch burning was pointless and he’s trying to find some information about it in  _ A History of Magic  _ by Bathilda Bagshot.

He pauses when he finds a paragraph talking about wizards and witches just using a Flame-Freezing charm if they were caught. Slowly and quietly, he reaches under his pillow and grabs his ink bottle and a roll of parchment. He unscrews the lid on the ink bottle and dips his quill in it, beginning to write his essay. Usually, he has Hermione on his left side, telling him when his lines aren’t straight anymore or if he’s writing words inside of other words, but he doesn’t have that currently, so he’ll have to find time for her to look his homework over and help him make it look pretty.

He’s just happy to be able to do his homework. Of course, Uncle Vernon had locked all of his things up in the cupboard under the stairs, but Harry managed to pick the lock and get his school books while Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley had been outside admiring Uncle Vernon’s new company car. And as long as he doesn’t leave ink blots on the sheets (not that he would even know if he did), the Dursleys should never find out about his little adventure.

At the moment, his relatives finding out that he’s doing magic homework is quite high on his list of worries. They’re already in a bad mood with him, he couldn’t imagine what might happen if they found out about his homework. And they’re only mad because Ron, Harry’s amazing, spectacular,  _ pureblood  _ best friend, had called him a week into summer vacation. The summer before, Harry had taught Mr. Weasley how to use a phone, but he supposes Mr. Weasley forgot to mention one small detail, which is that you don’t have to yell. Harry, now that he isn’t in any immediate danger of death, thinks the entire situation was quite hilarious, if only because it was his uncle who happened to answer the phone and not him, getting the fright of his life in doing so. 

Harry had been in the living room when Uncle Vernon had picked up the phone. He was vacuuming.

“Vernon Dursley speaking.”

Harry had frozen on the spot, the vacuum whirring away, when he heard Ron’s voice.

“HELLO? HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME? I — WANT — TO — TALK — TO — HARRY — POTTER!” 

Harry couldn’t have been more delighted with Ron’s inferior knowledge about Muggles but Uncle Vernon shouting back just as loudly had put a slight damper in his amusement.

“WHO IS THIS?” he had roared. “WHO ARE YOU?”

“RON — WEASLEY!” Ron yelled back. Harry had switched off the vacuum and covered his face with his hands. “I’M — A — FRIEND — OF — HARRY’S — FROM — SCHOOL —” 

“THERE IS NO HARRY POTTER HERE!” Uncle Vernon roared. “I DON’T KNOW WHAT SCHOOL YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT! NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN! DON’T YOU COME NEAR MY FAMILY!” 

The fight that followed the phone call had to be one of the worst fights Harry has had with his relatives.

“HOW DARE YOU GIVE THIS NUMBER TO PEOPLE LIKE — PEOPLE LIKE YOU!” 

It’s been a few weeks since then and Harry has recovered from his panic, thankfully. Ron had obviously realized that he made a mistake, because he didn’t call again. Hermione also hasn’t called him yet and Harry suspects that Ron might’ve warned her not to, which is nice but also a pity, because Hermione should know how to properly speak to someone on the phone, being a muggleborn and all.

So, other than the phone call, Harry has not heard from any of his friends in five long weeks. This summer, however, is nothing compared to last summer. The cat flap on Harry’s bedroom door and the locks on the outside are the only reminder of what all he went through last summer. Uncle Vernon hadn’t replaced the bars on his window either, probably because he was afraid Ron, Fred, and George would show up again and rip them out once more. And — after swearing that he wouldn’t send any letters with her — Uncle Vernon had allowed Harry to start letting Hedwig out at night, which is quite the improvement from her imprisonment all last summer. 

Harry suddenly lets out a big yawn. He sighs and decides to call it a night and finish his essay about witch burning the next night. He packs all of his things away and hides them under the loose floor under his bed before standing up and stretching. 

He shakes his head like a dog trying to get water out of its fur and walks across his room to his open window. He leans on the sill and breathes in the fresh air.

He notes silently that it's been two days since Hedwig left to hunt, going on three. He isn’t worried — she went off for a whole week near the beginning of summer and he had fretted for that whole week, only for her to return with about seven mice. How she carried all of them back, he’ll never know, but he does know that there is now a pile of dead mice under his chest of drawers just in case she gets locked up again. She’s smart for stockpiling, he’ll give her that much. 

He jumps when he hears the familiar hoot of his owl. Realizing she must be about to soar into his bedroom, he steps out of the way. 

He hears a soft  _ flump  _ land on his bed 

Hedwig suddenly latches onto the fabric of his pajama bottoms and tugs. He laughs softly and lets her lead him to his bed. There, she latches onto his fingers gently and lifts his hand, placing it on top of a package. He unties it quickly and she gives a hoot of thanks before lifting his hand once more.  _ Ah, so there’s more than one owl.  _ He unties the second package and when he doesn’t hear the owl get up and start flying, he realizes with a start that this must be Errol. He picks the owl up carefully and walks him over to Hedwig’s cage, placing him inside so h can get some water. Errol gives a feeble hoot of thanks.

Hedwig directs his hand once more to a third owl that is carrying both a package and a letter. The owl leaves quickly once it’s burdens are taken away. 

“Thanks, Hedwig,” Harry whispers. She trils quietly and rubs her face against his arm. 

When he opens up Errol’s package, two things fall out. He remembers, quite suddenly, that its his birthday today. Picking up the envelope, he realizes that this is his very first birthday card. Hands trembling, he opens it and takes out two pieces of paper. A newspaper clipping and a letter.

_ MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE  _

_ Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw.  _

_ A delighted Mr. Weasley told the Daily Prophet, “We will be spending the gold on a summer holiday in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works as a curse breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank.”  _

_ The Weasley family will be spending a month in Egypt, returning for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley children currently attend.  _

Harry grins, feeling happy for his best friend. If anybody deserves to win money, it’s definitely the Weasleys.

Harry then unfolds Ron’s letter.

_ Dear Harry,  _

_ Happy birthday!  _

_ Look, I’m really sorry about that telephone call. I hope the Muggles didn’t give you a hard time. I asked Dad, and he reckons I shouldn’t have shouted.  _

_ It’s amazing here in Egypt. I haven’t seen Charlie since he left for Romania and Bill’s been down here in Egypt for so long, it’s strange to be hanging out with them again! Of course, Fred and George are pretty jealous because Charlie and Bill just wanna hang out with me and not them, but they’re having fun with Percy and Ginny. _

_ I couldn’t believe it when Dad won the Daily Prophet Draw. Seven hundred galleons! Most of its gone on this trip, but they’re going to buy me a new wand for next year.  _

_ We’ll be back about a week before term starts and we’ll be going up to London to get my wand and our new books. Any chance of meeting you there?  _

_ Don’t let the Muggles get you down!  _

_ Try and come to London,  _

_ Ron _

_ P.S. Percy’s Head Boy. He got the letter last week.  _

Harry makes a mental note to ask Ron about his relationship with his oldest brothers as he picks up Ron’s present and unwraps it. It feels like glass and he finds that it’s pretty small. There’s another note from Ron inside of the present. 

_ Harry — this is a Pocket Sneakoscope. If there’s someone untrustworthy around, it’s supposed to light up and spin. It whistles too, so don’t worry about not seeing it if it starts going off. Bill says it’s rubbish sold for wizard tourists and isn’t reliable, because it kept lighting up at dinner last night. But he didn’t realize Fred and George had put beetles in his soup.  _

_ Bye — Ron  _

Harry smiles and places the Sneakoscope on his bedside table before grabbing Hedwig’s package. Inside of this is also a wrapped present, a card, and a letter, all from Hermione.

_ Dear Harry,  _

_ Ron wrote to me and told me about his phone call to your Uncle Vernon. I do hope you’re all right.  _

_ I’m on holiday in France at the moment visiting my grandparents and I didn’t know how I was going to send this to you — what if they’d opened it at customs? — but then Hedwig turned up! I think she wanted to make sure you got something for your birthday for a change. I bought your present by owl-order; there was an advertisement in the Daily Prophet (I’ve been getting it delivered; it’s so good to keep up with what’s going on in the wizarding world). Did you see that picture of Ron and his family a week ago? I bet he’s learning loads. I’m really jealous — the ancient Egyptian wizards were fascinating.  _

_ There’s some interesting local history of witchcraft here, too. I’ve rewritten my whole History of Magic essay to include some of the things I’ve found out, I hope it’s not too long — it’s two rolls of parchment more than Professor Binns asked for.  _

_ My sister actually asked about you and Ron! I think she’s finally coming around to this whole magic thing — she’s just asked my mum if she can come shopping with me when we get back to London!  _

_ Speaking of, Ron says he’s going to be in London in the last week of the holidays. Can you make it? Will your aunt and uncle let you come? I really hope you can, I’d love for you to meet my sister. If not, I’ll see you on the Hogwarts Express on September first!  _

_ Love from Hermione  _

_ P.S. Ron says Percy’s Head Boy. I’ll bet Percy’s really pleased. Ron doesn’t seem too happy about it. I think I’ll have to knock some more sense into him about his relationship with Percy. Remind me to do that, will you? _

Harry laughs quietly as he sets the letter aside and picks up Hermione’s present. It’s large and heavy and knowing Hermione, it’s probably a huge book about spells, but to Harry’s delight, it’s actually something called a  _ Broomstick Servicing Kit.  _

He spends a few minutes exploring the contents of the case before setting it aside and picking up the last parcel. Before he can unwrap it, though, it gives a strange quiver and then whatever is inside of it makes a loud snapping noise, as though it has jaws and is trying to bite Harry. Harry tenses. The noise is very similar to one of a dog snapping its jaw at him, something Harry wishes he didn’t recognize. He tentatively pokes the package again and when it snaps once more, he decides to just set it aside and deal with it later, preferably when he’s in the company of his best friends. He picks up the card that came with the package. 

_ Dear Harry,  _

_ Happy Birthday!  _

_ Think you might find this useful for next year. Won’t say no more here. Tell you when I see you.  _

_ Hope the Muggles are treating you right.  _

_ All the best,  _

_ Hagrid  _

Harry frowns. He definitely doesn’t want to open it now. He loves Hagrid but Hagrid isn’t known for being all too cautious and it’s very plausible that he might’ve sent Harry something dangerous without really realizing that it’s dangerous.

He sets Hagrid’s letter aside and picks up the very last thing. His Hogwarts letter.

He notices that it’s thicker than usual and wonders what might be inside. 

_ Dear Mr. Potter,  _

_ Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King’s Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o’clock.  _

_ Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign.  _

_ A list of books for next year is enclosed.  _

_ Yours sincerely,  _

_ Professor M. McGonagall  _

_ Deputy Headmistress _

Harry frowns and pulls the Hogsmeade permission form out. He’s heard about Hogsmeade, of course, but he’s never been and he sure would like to go but there is no way Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia would ever sign it. 

He sighs and decides to worry about it in the morning. He clears his bed off and lays down.

“Goodnight, Hedwig,” he says.

She hoots softly and he smiles, closing his eyes. For the first time in… forever, really, Harry really did have a happy birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ron not knowing how to use a phone is comedy gold and i love it  
> hedwig :') she's such a good owl. directing his hand to the packages and being a cutie i love her so much  
> anyway it's my headcanon that bill and charlie are like, so in love with their youngest brother and just hang out with him as much as they can when they're all together and their other siblings are SO jealous. "mum said it's MY turn with bill and charlie ron!" and then bill and charlie just going "no❤" and continuing to vibe with ron. amazing.  
> hermione's sister!!!!!!!! i need a name for her, give me suggestions. i love her. we stan a woman who changes her opinion once she's educated.  
> harry picking up the monster book and immediately being like "absofuckinglutely not" is so funny. the self preservation only kicks in when ron isn't around  
> "goodnight hedwig" this BABY. you know damn well that he doesn't EVER go to sleep without telling hedwig goodnight.   
> "For the first time in… forever, really, Harry really did have a happy birthday." as he should. as he fucking should.  
> anyway  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	2. Aunt Marge's Big Mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter talks about harry's past abuse a lot :/ there's also hints at animal abuse near the end of the chapter 
> 
> if i need to put any other trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

When Harry enters the kitchen the next morning, Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley are already sitting there, watching the new television they bought for Dudley. Harry lowers himself into the chair in between his uncle and cousin and helps himself to some toast, thinking about his broom servicing kit upstairs happily. 

“…the public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hot line has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately.” 

Harry’s head snaps up.  _ Black? _

“No need to tell us  _ he’s _ no good,” Uncle Vernon says. “Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout! Look at his hair!” 

Harry can tell that comment was directed at him and his own untidy hair, but he’s too worried about the escaped convict. Surely —  _ surely  _ — it’s not  _ Sirius  _ Black. Black is a common Muggle surname! Harry decides to continue thinking that, but a voice in the back of his mind is cursing Madam Pomfrey for telling him so many stories about his dad and his friends, only to not mention that one of them went to prison for something. 

“The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today —” 

“Hang on!” Uncle Vernon barks at the television, as if it would actually make them hang on. “You didn’t tell us where that maniac’s escaped from! What use is that? Lunatic could be coming up the street right now!” 

Harry so desperately wants to tell them it’s a wizard who escaped, that’s why they didn’t tell you, but he’s not completely sure if it  _ is  _ a wizard who escaped, so he keeps his mouth shut.

“When will they learn,” Uncle Vernon bangs his fist on the table and Harry flinches away, earning a snort from Dudley, “that hanging’s the only way to deal with these people?” 

“Very true,” Aunt Petunia agrees.

“I’d better be off in a minute, Petunia. Marge’s train gets in at ten.”

Harry is snapped out of his thoughts of Sirius Black very quickly. 

“Aunt Marge?” he blurts. “Sh-she’s not coming  _ here, _ is she?” 

Aunt Marge is Uncle Vernon’s sister and Harry is sure he’s more afraid of her than he is Uncle Vernon, which is quite a feat. Or, it used to be. Harry isn’t so afraid of his uncle anymore, only flinching and folding in on himself instinctively now instead of out of fear. But it’s not even  _ her  _ anymore, it’s her  _ dogs.  _ Aunt Marge lives in the country and breeds bulldogs and she doesn’t stay at Privet Drive often, but each of her visits has scarred Harry an unnecessary amount.

At Dudley’s fifth birthday, back when Harry still had vision (though, having vision and being able to see are two different things), Aunt Marge had whacked Harry so many times with her walking stick that when he got his own white cane, he scared himself each time he accidentally hit his knee against it. A year after Harry fully lost his sight, she turned up for Christmas with a computerized robot for Dudley and a big box of  _ dog treats  _ for Harry. Of course, she didn’t  _ tell  _ him they were dog treats and neither did anybody else, leading Harry to actually eating one and having to deal with the humiliation of eating a dog treat in front of his relatives. Her last visit had been a year before Harry started at Hogwarts. Harry had accidentally stepped on the tail of her favorite dog, Ripper. Ripper had chased Harry out into the garden and up a tree, sparking his now quite intense fear and hatred of dogs. Aunt Marge had refused to call Ripper off and Harry stayed in that tree until well past midnight. It’s something Harry has never told anybody, though, because he once heard a boy at school mention how he likes cats way more than dogs and all the dog people had ganged up on him. That had been enough to scare Harry into keeping his hatred a secret. 

“Marge’ll be here for a week,” Uncle Vernon tells him, “and while we’re on the subject, we need to get a few things straight before I go and collect her.” 

Harry keeps his mouth shut.

“Firstly,” Uncle Vernon growls, “you’ll keep a civil tongue in your head when you’re talking to Marge.” 

“All right,” Harry says, quite bitterly, “if she does when she’s talking to me.” 

“Secondly,” Uncle Vernon says, ignoring Harry’s words, “as Marge doesn’t know anything about your  _ abnormality, _ I don’t want any — any  _ funny _ stuff while she’s here. You behave yourself, got me?” 

“I will if she does,” Harry says through gritted teeth. 

“And thirdly,” Uncle Vernon says, still ignoring his words, “we’ve told Marge you attend St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys.” 

_ “What?” _ Harry yells.

“And you’ll be sticking to that story, boy, or there’ll be trouble,” Uncle Vernon says.

Harry sits there, furious and hardly able to believe it. Aunt Marge coming for a weeklong visit is bad enough but now he’s got to pretend he goes to a correctional facility while dealing with her. 

There goes his happy birthday.

“Well, Petunia,” Uncle Vernon says, standing up, “I’ll be off to the station, then. Want to come along for the ride, Dudders?” 

“No,” Dudley says.

“Duddy’s got to make himself smart for his auntie,” Aunt Petunia says. “Mummy’s bought him a lovely new bow-tie.” 

“See you in a bit, then,” he says, leaving the kitchen.

Harry suddenly has an idea. He quickly gets to his feet and follows Uncle Vernon to the front door.

“I’m not taking you,” Uncle Vernon says when he finally notices Harry standing behind him. 

“Like I wanted to come,” Harry says coldly before making his voice as sweet as he can. “I want to ask you something.” 

Uncle Vernon says nothing, giving him no verbal cue to show that he’s listening. Harry forces himself to remain calm.

“Third years at Hog — at my school are allowed to visit the village sometimes,” he says.

“So?” Uncle Vernon snaps. Harry hears him picks up his car keys.

“I need you to sign the permission form,” he says quickly. 

“And why should I do that?” 

“Well,” Harry clasps his hands together behind his back and angles his head down, “it’ll be hard work, pretending to Aunt Marge I go to that St. Whatsits…” 

“St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys!” Uncle Vernon bellows, though Harry can hear a hint of panic in his voice.

“Exactly,” Harry nods, looking up again and hoping that his blank stare sparks a bit of fear in his uncle as well. “It’s a lot to remember. I’ll have to make it sound convincing, won’t I? What if I accidentally let something slip?” 

_ “You’ll get the stuffing knocked out of you, won’t you?” _ Uncle Vernon roars.

Harry does flinch, but he stands his ground.

“Knocking the stuffing out of me won’t make Aunt Marge forget what I could tell her,” he says.

Uncle Vernon falls silent.

“But if you sign my permission form,” Harry continues, “I swear I’ll remember where I’m supposed to go to school, and I’ll act like a Mug — like I’m normal and everything.” 

There’s a long moment of silence.

“Right,” Uncle Vernon finally snaps. “I shall monitor your behavior carefully during Marge’s visit. If, at the end of it, you’ve toed the line and kept to the story, I’ll sign your ruddy form.” 

He slams the door so hard behind him when he leaves that Harry hears one of the glass panes at the top fall and hit the ground. He debates going to get a dust pan and cleaning it up, but instead, he turns and heads up to his bedroom. 

He gathers all of his presents and hides them under the floorboard with his homework. After that, he walks over to Hedwig’s cage and opens it, poking both the owls inside softly. 

“Hedwig,” he says sadly, “you’re going to have to clear off for a week. Go with Errol. Ron’ll look after you. I’ll write him a note, explaining. Don’t give me that” — Hedwig had started to squawk her indignance at leaving him for a week — “it’s not my fault. It’s the only way I’ll be allowed to visit Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione.” 

Ten minutes later, the two owls leave his bedroom, a note to Ron tied around Hedwig’s legs. Resigned, Harry puts Hedwig’s cage inside his wardrobe. 

He doesn’t get long to mourn the loss of his familiar for a week, for it seems like Aunt Marge’s arrival comes in no time.

Harry heads downstairs at Aunt Petunia's shriek. 

“Do something about your hair!” Aunt Petunia snaps when he reaches the hall.

Harry decides to not mention how there’s no point in trying to make his hair lay flat. And besides, Aunt Marge loves to criticize him, so the more untidy he looks, the happier she’ll be.

“Get the door!” Aunt Petunia hisses at Harry when Uncle Vernon pulls into the driveway a few minutes later.

Harry, dreading what’s to come, pulls the door open. 

“Where’s my Dudders?” Aunt Marge demands as soon as she’s stepped inside the house. “Where’s my neffy poo?” 

A second later, a suitcase is thrust into Harry’s arms, knocking the wind out of him. When he’s finally regained his breath, Uncle Vernon has made his way inside.

“Tea, Marge?” he asks. “And what will Ripper take?” 

Harry internally sighs at the mention of the dog.

“Ripper can have some tea out of my saucer,” Aunt Marge says.

With that, they walk toward the kitchen and leave Harry in the hall. Not that he’s complaining, any excuse to not be in Aunt Marge’s presence is one he will gladly take. He takes as long as he can heaving the suitcase up to the spare bedroom and by the time he returns to the kitchen, he can hear Ripper lapping us his tea noisily in the corner. If there’s one thing Harry and Aunt Petunia can agree on, it’s their mutual dislike of dogs, though Aunt Petunia doesn’t like animals in general while Harry does.

“Who’s looking after the other dogs, Marge?” Uncle Vernon asks. 

“Oh, I’ve got Colonel Fubster managing them,” Aunt Marge says. “He’s retired now, good for him to have something to do. But I couldn’t leave poor old Ripper. He pines if he’s away from me.” 

Ripper begins to growl as Harry takes a seat and he subconsciously leans away from the sound, wincing. 

“So!” Aunt Marge barks. “Still here, are you?” 

“Yes,” Harry says.

“Don’t you say ‘yes’ in that ungrateful tone,” Aunt Marge growls. “It’s damn good of Vernon and Petunia to keep you. Wouldn’t have done it myself. You’d have gone straight to an orphanage if you’d been dumped on  _ my  _ doorstep.” 

Harry desperately wants to say that an orphanage sounds way better than living at the Dursley’s but thoughts of Hogsmeade stop him. He forces a smile on his face. 

“Don’t you smirk at me!” Aunt Marge booms. Harry just can’t win with her. “I can see you haven’t improved since I last saw you. I hoped school would knock some manners into you.” She pauses to take a loud gulp of tea and then asks, “Where is it that you send him, again, Vernon?” 

“St. Brutus’s,” Uncle Vernon says at once. “It’s a first-rate institution for hopeless cases.” 

“I see,” Aunt Marge says. “Do they use the cane at St. Brutus’s, boy?” 

Harry flinches and briefly wonders if he’ll ever  _ stop  _ flinching when he hears the word ‘boy’. 

“Yes,” Harry says. And then, feeling that a simple ‘yes’ isn’t enough, adds, “All the time.” 

“Excellent,” she says. “I won’t have this namby-pamby, wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it. A good thrashing is what’s needed in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. Have  _ you _ been beaten often?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Harry nods, “loads of times.” 

“I still don’t like your tone, boy,” she says. “If you can speak of your beatings in that casual way, they clearly aren’t hitting you hard enough. Petunia, I’d write if I were you. Make it clear that you approve the use of extreme force in this boy’s case.” 

Harry wonders if Aunt Marge can see him flinching. She might get a kick out of it if she did.

Uncle Vernon changes the subject very abruptly.

“Heard the news this morning, Marge? What about that escaped prisoner, eh?” 

Harry, as the week progresses, finds himself thinking longingly of life at number four without Aunt Marge. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia usually encourage Harry to stay out of their way, even more so now that he’s been going to Hogwarts for two years, going on three. Aunt Marge, on the other hand, has to have Harry under her eye at all times. This has led to many silent moments of pure panic when he hears Ripper’s collar jingling or him growling. 

“You mustn’t blame yourself for the way the boy’s turned out, Vernon,” Aunt Marge says during lunch on the third day. She takes great pleasure in talking about all the ways Harry is an unsatisfactory person. “If there’s something rotten on the  _ inside, _ there’s nothing anyone can do about it.” 

Harry tries to concentrate on his food and actually eating it.  _ Hogsmeade. Think about Hogsmeade, Harry. _

“It’s one of the basic rules of breeding,” Aunt Marge says. “You see it all the time with dogs. If there’s something wrong with the bitch, there’ll be something wrong with the pup —” 

At that exact moment, there’s a loud shatter. Harry jumps and realizes quickly that he just made Aunt Marge’s wine glass explode.

“Marge!” Aunt Petunia squeals. “Marge, are you all right?” 

“Not to worry,” Aunt Marge says. “Must have squeezed it too hard. Did the same thing at Colonel Fubster’s the other day. No need to fuss, Petunia, I have a very firm grip…”

Harry decides to skip out on dessert. 

Out in the hallway, he leans against the wall and breathes deeply, trying to calm himself down. It’s been a long time since he’s lost control and made something explode and he can’t afford to let it happen again. Hogsmeade isn’t the only thing at sake, either. If he carries on like that, exploding wine glasses or other things, he might get in trouble with the Ministry of Magic. His record already has the incident from last summer with Dobby on it and the next time he does magic in Privet Drive, he’ll be expelled. 

He hears the Dursleys leaving the table and he quickly hurries upstairs.

The next three days, Harry only stops himself from mouthing off or doing accidental magic by thinking about his  _ Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare. _ And also Ron, but he likes to start off with the Handbook and see how long it takes for his thoughts to morph to his best friend. It’s starting to only take a few minutes and Harry isn’t sure if he should be worried or not. 

At last, the final day of the week arrives. Harry is pleased to note that they’ve managed to get through dinner and dessert without any mention of Harry’s flaws.

“Can I tempt you, Marge?” Uncle Vernon asks after asking Aunt Petunia to fetch a bottle of brandy for him.

“Just a small one, then,” Aunt Marge chuckles. “A bit more than that… and a bit more… that’s the ticket.” 

Harry wants nothing more than to disappear to his bedroom but he knows he won’t get away that easily.

“Aah,” Aunt Marge says, smacking her lips. “Excellent nosh, Petunia. It’s normally just a fry-up for me of an evening, with twelve dogs to look after…” She burps loudly and Harry winces. “Pardon me. But I do like to see a healthy-sized boy,” she goes on. “You’ll be a proper-sized man, Dudders, like your father. Yes, I’ll have a spot more brandy, Vernon…” 

“Now, this one here —” 

Harry very quickly bypasses the handbook and goes straight for Ron.  _ Ron’s laugh, Ron’s laugh, Ron will totally laugh when you tell him about this… _

“This one’s got a mean, runty look about him. You get that with dogs. I had Colonel Fubster drown one last year. Ratty little thing it was. Weak. Underbred.” 

_ Ron’s voice. That’s quite nice too. _

“It all comes down to blood, as I was saying the other day. Bad blood will out. Now, I’m saying nothing against your family, Petunia, but your sister was a bad egg. They turn up in the best families. Then she ran off with a wastrel and here’s the result right in front of us.” 

_ Ron, Ron, Ron.  _ But even that isn’t working anymore.

“This Potter,” Aunt Marge says loudly, “you never told me what he did?” 

“He — didn’t work,” Uncle Vernon says after a beat of tense silence. “Unemployed.” 

“As I expected!” Aunt Marge says. “A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who —”

“He was not,” Harry says suddenly. The table goes completely silent. Harry feels his entire body shaking. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more angry. 

“MORE BRANDY!” Uncle Vernon yells. “You, boy,” he makes sure to put emphasis on the word, but Harry is too furious to give him the satisfaction of a flinch. “Go to bed, go on —” 

“No, Vernon,” Aunt Marge hiccups. “Go on, boy, go on. Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash (drunk, I expect) —” 

“They didn’t die in a car crash!” Harry jumps up.

“They died in a car crash, you nasty little liar, and left you to be a burden on their decent, hardworking relatives!” Aunt Marge screams. “You are an insolent, ungrateful little —” 

She suddenly stops speaking. Harry feels a brief flash of satisfaction. A second later, he hears tearing and ripping and buttons hitting walls and the satisfaction disappears when he realizes it’s his magic that made her stop talking. 

“MARGE!” Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia yell. 

Harry hears Ripper skid into the room and start barking and growling.

“NOOOOOOO!” 

Harry quickly runs out of the dining room before anybody can stop him. The cupboard under the stairs bursts open before he even reaches it thanks to his magic and he heaves his trunk into the hallway, making sure to grab his cane from under the old bed he used to sleep on. He had started hiding it under the bed because Dudley used to like to steal it from him and hide it places so he couldn’t find it. 

He sprints upstairs and crawls under his bed, grabbing all of the things he hid in the loose floorboard under his bed. He stands up, rips open his wardrobe and grabs Hedwig’s cage, and rushes back downstairs to his trunk.

“COME BACK IN HERE!” Uncle Vernon suddenly roars. “COME BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!” 

Harry shoves his cane out, effectively stopping his uncle from taking another step closer to him. 

“She deserved it,” Harry says, his chest heaving. “She deserved what she got. You keep away from me.” 

He fumbles with the lock behind him, keeping his cane against his uncle’s stomach.

“I’m going,” Harry says. “I’ve had enough.” 

And in the next minute, he finds himself walking down the quiet street, pulling his heavy trunk behind him with Hedwig’s cage under his arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> madam pomfrey when harry asks her why she didn't tell him sirius went to azkaban: ✌😐  
> straight up, harry accidentally eating a dog treat and then getting made fun of for it is one of the worst things i've written. like just thinking about that happening to me makes me want to disappear on the spot  
> "he once heard a boy at school mention how he likes cats way more than dogs and all the dog people had ganged up on him" it's sad because it's true  
> poor hedwig :( she doesn't deserve this slander  
> 'i have a very firm grip' is literally one of my favorite lines in the entire series its just?? so funny??? and the fact that she's done it before LMAO  
> harry just 'ron ron ron ron ron' is SO funny. he's so in love and he's still like 'he's my bff4life' lmao  
> he has his cane! finally! he didn't forget it this time, what a king.  
> anyway  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	3. The Knight Bus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i mention blood :(
> 
> if i need to put any other trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

Harry gets several streets away before he stops and slides down a wall, panting from the effort it took him to drag his trunk so far. He sits there, anger still surging through him, and listens to his heart thumping frantically against his chest.

It takes ten minutes for the panic to settle in. 

He’s stranded, all alone, in the Muggle world with nowhere to go. That’s not even the worst part. He had just done serious magic, which means that he’s most certainly expelled from Hogwarts. He’s honestly surprised he hasn’t been tracked down by the Ministry yet. 

What’s going to happen to him? Is he going to be arrested? Or would the magical world just… throw him out?

He thinks about Ron and Hermione and feels his heart sink. They wouldn’t hesitate to help him out, criminal or not, but both of them are abroad and with Hedwig gone, he doesn’t have a way to contact them. And he doesn’t have any Muggle money. Besides, he doesn’t know his way around Little Whinging and would certainly get himself lost before he managed to even find a payphone or a corner store. 

He has a small amount of money in the bottom of his trunk, but it’s wizard money and wouldn’t do anything for him in the Muggle world. He would never be able to drag his trunk all the way to London to exchange it for Muggle money, anyway. 

He tightens his grip around his cane. He needs to think of  _ something.  _ He doesn’t want to still be sitting on this wall when the sun rises because he can’t imagine trying to explain to the Muggle police — who already hate him because the rumors of him being a delinquent spread all the way to the actual police — why he has a trunk full of spellbooks and a broomstick. 

He opens his trunk and digs around, pulling his wand out. If he was already expelled, a little more magic couldn’t hurt. He could… bewitch his trunk feather-light, tie it to his broom, cover himself with his Invisibility Cloak, and fly all the way to London? From there, he could get the rest of his money out of his vault at Gringotts and… begin his life as an outcast.

He winces. 

Horrible plan.

He doesn’t even  _ know  _ a feather-light charm.

He suddenly jumps up, wand held out. He had sensed rather than heard it, the presence of  _ something  _ behind him.

There’s a beat of tense silence.

“Who’s there?” he asks, stupidly.

Something, he still doesn’t know what, touches his hand. It’s wet and cold and it startles him so badly that he falls to the ground. His wand flies out of his hand when he throws his arm out to break his fall.

There’s a deafening BANG and he jumps back. There’s a loud screech and then the sounds of bus doors opening.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve—” 

Stan stops abruptly. Harry quickly scrambles around for his wand and then stands up.

“What were you doin’ down there?” Stan asks, dropping his professional manner. 

“Fell over,” Harry says. 

“’Choo fall over for?” Stan says, snickering.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Harry says, already irritated. He can feel the hand that he used to break his fall bleeding and he frowns.

He suddenly remembers why he fell and he swings around, listening for any signs of the thing still being there.

“‘Choo lookin’ at?” Stan says.

“Something touched my hand,” Harry mumbles. “Is there anything there?”

“No…”

Harry turns back around, his frown prominent.

“Woss that on your ’ead?” Stan says suddenly.

“Nothing,” Harry says quickly, flattening his hair over his forehead. 

“Woss your name?” Stan says.

“Neville Longbottom,” Harry says the first name that comes to mind and then curses himself internally. At least he didn’t say  _ Ron Weasley. _ “So — so this bus,” he says, hoping to distract Stan from his actual identity, “did you say it goes anywhere?” 

“Yep,” Stan says, sounding quite proud, “anywhere you like, ’long it’s on land. Can’t do nuffink underwater. 

“Ere,” he says, sounding suspicious, “you did flag us down, dincha? Stuck out your wand ’and, dincha?” 

“Yes,” Harry lies. “Listen, how much would it be to get to London?” 

“Eleven Sickles,” Stan says, “but for firteen you get ’ot chocolate, and for fifteen you get an ’otwater bottle an’ a toofbrush in the color of your choice.” 

Harry quickly rummages through his trunk and pulls out his money bag, shoving some gold into Stan’s head. He helps Stan lift his trunk and Hedwig’s cage up the steps of the bus. 

“You ’ave this one,” Stan whispers, nudging Harry down onto what feels like a bed. “This is our driver, Ernie Prang. This is Neville Longbottom, Ern.” 

Harry nervously flattens his hair over his forehead again.

“Take’er away, Ern,” Stan says.

There’s another loud BANG and a moment later, Harry finds himself flat on his bed, thrown backward by the speed of the Knight Bus. Harry pulls himself up, frowning and feeling more than a little sick to his stomach.

“This is where we was before you flagged us down,” Stan says, as if Harry can see what he’s talking about. Though, Harry hasn’t told Stan he’s blind yet so he probably assumes Harry can see. “Where are we, Ern? Somewhere in Wales?” 

“Ar,” Ernie says.

“How come the Muggles don’t hear the bus?” Harry asks. 

“Them!” Stan says. “Don’ listen properly, do they? Don’ look properly either. Never notice nuffink, they don’.” 

“Best go wake up Madam Marsh, Stan,” Ernie says. “We’ll be in Abergavenny in a minute.” 

Harry grips his cane in both of his hands and then realizes his hand is healed. He must’ve done it subconsciously. 

“’Ere you go, Madam Marsh,” Stan’s voice says happily. Harry plants his feet on the ground when the bus comes to a sudden stop and his bed lurches forward.

A second later, the bus shoots off with another BANG. Harry’s stomach churns, but not because of the bus. He’s thinking about what’s going to happen to him again and he’s really not liking the things his mind is coming up with.

He hears Stan unfold a newspaper and suddenly forgets his troubles for a moment.

“Stan — is that the  _ Daily Prophet?” _

“What choo' fink it was?”

“I was just making sure,” Harry says. “I’m blind.”

“You are? Why didn’ you say anyfink?”

“It wasn’t very urgent that you knew,” Harry says. He shakes his head, “What’s going on? I don’t get the  _ Daily Prophet.” _

“Woss goin’ on?” Stan repeats. “Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban, that’s woss goin’ on!”

Harry sighs. He really was hoping that his guess about who ‘Black’ was would turn out to be wrong.

“Could I —?”

Stan hands him the newspaper. Harry begins running his fingers along the page.

_ BLACK STILL AT LARGE  _

_ Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today.  _

_ “We are doing all we can to recapture Black,” said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, “and we beg the magical community to remain calm.”  _

_ Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.  _

_ “Well, really, I had to, don’t you know,” said an irritable Fudge. “Black is mad. He’s a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister’s assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black’s true identity to anyone. And let’s face it — who’d believe him if he did?”  _

_ While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.  _

“He murdered  _ thirteen people?” _ Harry says, handing the paper back, “with  _ one curse?” _

“Yep,” Stan says, “in front of witnesses an’ all. Broad daylight. Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Ern?” 

“Ar,” Ernie says.

“Black woz a big supporter of You-Know-’Oo,” he says.

Harry’s eyes widen. “He was?”

“Very close to You-Know-’Oo, they say… anyway, when little ‘Arry Potter got the better of You-Know-’Oo” — Harry once again flattens his bangs down — “all You-Know-’Oo’s supporters was tracked down, wasn’t they, Ern? Most of ‘em knew it was all over, wiv You-Know-’Oo gone, and they came quiet. But not Sirius Black. I ’eard he thought ’e’d be second-in-command once You-Know-’Oo ’ad taken over. 

“Anyway, they cornered Black in the middle of a street full of Muggles an’ Black took out ‘is wand and ‘e blasted ‘alf the street apart, an’ a wizard got it, an’ so did a dozen Muggles what got in the way. ‘Orrible, eh? An’ you know what Black did then?” 

Harry shakes his head.

“Laughed,” Stan says dramatically. “Jus’ stood there an’ laughed. An’ when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, ‘e went wiv em quiet as anyfink, still laughing ‘is ‘ead off. ‘Cos ‘e’s mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?” 

“If he weren’t when he went to Azkaban, he will be now,” Ernie says. “I’d blow meself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind you… after what he did…” 

“How did they even find him?” Harry suddenly asks. “Why wasn’t he hiding?”

“What else did ‘e have to do? The Potters were dead, little ‘Arry disappeared into the night, You-Know-’Oo was gone,” Stan says. “Wanted to go out wif a bang! An’ ‘e did!”

Harry leans against the window, feeling worse than ever now that he knows the story behind what happened to one of his dad’s best friends. He loves Madam Pomfrey but she couldn’t have at least  _ mentioned  _ it? 

“Anyway, you ‘ear about that ‘Arry Potter, Neville? Blew up ‘is aunt! We ‘ad ‘im ‘ere on the Knight Bus, di’n’t we, Ern? ‘E was tryin’ to run for it…”

Harry scowls and turns his head away from Stan. 

Slowly but surely, the bus empties out, until finally — 

“Right then, Neville,” Stan claps his hands together, “whereabouts in London?” 

“Diagon Alley,” Harry says.

“Righto,” Stan says. “’Old tight, then.” 

BANG. 

What feels like only seconds later, which actually might’ve been literal seconds, Ernie slams on the brakes in front of, what he assumes is, the Leaky Cauldron.

“Thanks,” Harry says to Ernie before jumping down onto the pavement. 

He helps Stan lower his trunk and Hedwig’s cage to the ground.

“Well,” Harry says. “Bye then!” 

“There you are, Harry.”

Before Harry can turn around to face the voice, a hand lands on his shoulder.

“Blimey! Ern, come ‘ere! Come ‘ere!” 

Harry frowns.

“What didja call Neville, Minister?” Stan says excitedly.

_ Minister! The Minister for Magic is behind him! _

“Neville?” Fudge repeats. “This is Harry Potter.”

“I knew it!” Stan shouts. “Ern! Ern! Guess ‘oo Neville is, Ern! ‘E’s ‘Arry Potter! I can see ‘is scar!” 

“Yes,” Fudge says stiffly, “well, I’m very glad the Knight Bus picked Harry up, but he and I need to step inside the Leaky Cauldron now…” 

Fudge pushes down on Harry’s shoulder and then steers him inside the Leaky Cauldron.

“You’ve got him, Minister!” a voice that might be Tom the Innkeeper says. “Will you be wanting anything? Beer? Brandy?” 

“Perhaps a pot of tea,” Fudge says.

There’s a loud scraping sound behind them.

“’Ow come you di’n’t tell us ‘oo you are, eh, Neville?” Stan’s voice says.

“And a private parlor, please, Tom,” Fudge says pointedly.

“Bye,” Harry says to Stan.

“Bye, Neville!” Stan calls as Fudge leads Harry away.

They enter a room a second later.

“Sit down, Harry,” Fudge says.

Harry finds the chair that he’s most likely being pointed to and sits down.

“I am Cornelius Fudge, Harry. The Minister for Magic.” 

Harry, of course, knows this, but since he was under the Invisibility Cloak the first time he met the Minister, Harry decides not to mention this.

Someone, who Harry is sure is Tom, enters and sets a tray down on a table and then leaves again.

“Well, Harry,” Fudge says, “you’ve had us all in a right flap, I don’t mind telling you. Running away from your aunt and uncle’s house like that! I’d started to think… but you’re safe, and that’s what matters.” 

“Eat, Harry, you look dead on your feet. Now then… You will be pleased to hear that we have dealt with the unfortunate blowing-up of Miss Marjorie Dursley. Two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Department were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago. Miss Dursley has been punctured and her memory has been modified. She has no recollection of the incident at all. So that’s that, and no harm done.” 

Harry blinks and then opens his mouth to say something but finds he has nothing to say. He closes his mouth.

“Ah, you’re worrying about the reaction of your aunt and uncle?” Fudge says. Well, no, he wasn’t, but he sure is now. “Well, I won’t deny that they are extremely angry, Harry, but they are prepared to take you back next summer as long as you stay at Hogwarts for the Yule and Easter holidays.” 

“I always stay at Hogwarts for the Yule and Easter holidays,” Harry says, “and I don’t ever want to go back to Privet Drive.” 

“Now, now, I’m sure you’ll feel differently once you’ve calmed down,” Fudge says, sounding worried. “They are your family, after all, and I’m sure you are fond of each other — er — very deep down.” 

Harry wants nothing more than to explain all the reasons that’s completely wrong and absurd but he keeps his mouth shut.

“So all that remains,” Fudge says, “is to decide where you’re going to spend the last two weeks of your vacation. I suggest you take a room here at the Leaky Cauldron and…” 

“Hang on,” Harry blurts. “What about my punishment?” 

“Punishment?”

“I broke the law!” Harry says. “The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry!” 

“Oh, my dear boy, we’re not going to punish you for a little thing like that!” Fudge cries. “It was an accident! We don’t send people to Azkaban just for blowing up their aunts!” 

“Last year, I got an official warning just because a house-elf smashed a pudding in my uncle’s house!” he argues. “The Ministry of Magic said I’d be expelled from Hogwarts if there was any more magic there!” 

“Circumstances change, Harry… We have to take into account… in the present climate… Surely you don’t want to be expelled?” Fudge says, sounding quite awkward.

“Of course I don’t.”

“Well then, what’s all the fuss about?” Fudge says, laughing. “Now, have a crumpet, Harry, while I go and see if Tom’s got a room for you.” 

Fudge leaves. Harry thinks hard about the situation. Something very strange is going on… and surely, the Minister for Magic himself isn’t the person who deals with things like this? Wouldn’t he have much more important things to do?

Fudge returns. 

“Room eleven’s free, Harry,” Fudge says. “I think you’ll be very comfortable. Just one thing, and I’m sure you’ll understand… I don’t want you wandering off into Muggle London, all right? Keep to Diagon Alley. And you’re to be back here before dark each night. Sure you’ll understand. Tom will be keeping an eye on you for me.” 

“Okay,” Harry says slowly, “but why?” 

“Don’t want to lose you again, do we?” Fudge says with a laugh. “No, no… best we know where you are… I mean…” 

Fudge clears his throat.

“Well, I’ll be off, plenty to do, you know…” 

“Have you had any luck with Black yet?” Harry asks.

“What’s that? Oh, you’ve heard — well, no, not yet, but it’s only a matter of time. The Azkaban guards have never yet failed… and they are angrier than I’ve ever seen them.” 

“So, I’ll say good-bye.” 

Harry doesn’t move. He thinks the Minister might be holding his hand out for a hand shake but he doesn’t want to make a fool of himself by sticking his hand out to shake it and completely failing. 

Fudge clears his throat again, “Right. Goodbye, Harry.”

He quickly leaves. Harry doesn’t even feel bad.

“If you’ll follow me, Mr. Potter,” Tom says, “I’ve already taken your things up…” 

He follows Tom all the way to his room and thanks him before he closes the door.

There’s a soft hoot before an owl lands on his shoulder.

“Hedwig,” he breathes. He reaches up and strokes her feathers as she begins to preen through his hair. “Hi, darling.”

He sits down on his bed and lets Hedwig do her thing, absentmindedly petting her.

After about five minutes, she flies down to his lap.

“It’s been a weird night, Hedwig,” he mumbles. 

She hoots her agreement before flying up, nuzzling her face against his cheek, and then flying over to a different part of the room.

“Goodnight, Hedwig,” he says. She claps her beaks at him as if to say it back and he laughs quietly before laying down. He falls asleep without even getting under the covers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> acab :)  
> 'begin his life as an outcast' this boy is so dramatic. he's not james potter's son for nothing i suppose  
> SIRIUS NO he's blind :( he can't see you sirius you can't just touch him with your nose stupid  
> neville longbottom ahdhsahfshh like why was neville the first name to come to his mind?? this boy is such a disaster  
> stan shunpike literally makes me so happy. "choo you fall over for?" "i didn't do it on purpose." best interaction ever  
> ew its fudge. nasty man. gross man. 🤮  
> harry asking fudge to sign his permission form was so funny but :/  
> harry not shaking fudge's hand is so funny. he straight up stood there like 😐 and fudge was like 👁👄👁  
> hedwig 🥺 her preening his hair and harry being so patient with her and calling her darling oh my god 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 harry only has patience when it comes to hedwig that's IT  
> anyway  
> i am going to include wolfstar BUT obviously they aren't going to just start making out in this story there's still a lot of healing and forgiveness that needs to happen but like... what's stopping them from fucking when dumbles tells sirius to lie low at his place. what is stopping them. they're gonna fuck. i don't make the rules i just live by them. thank you and goodnight.  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	4. The Leaky Cauldron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i need to put any trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

It takes Harry several days to adjust to his new freedom. Never before has he been able to wake up whenever he pleases or eat whenever he wants,  _ what _ ever he wants. He’s allowed to go wherever he pleases as well, as long as it's in Diagon Alley. And considering Diagon Alley is full of the most interesting wizarding shops, Harry feels no desire to wander back into Muggle London. 

Harry eats breakfast every morning in his room with Hedwig and after breakfast, he heads out back and presses the third brick from the left with his wand with the help of Hedwig, who has taken to travelling around Diagon Alley with him and helps him navigate the crowded street. He spends the long sunny days of summer exploring different shops and eating at different cafes. He no longer has to do his homework in the dead of night, which is a major plus to his new living situation. He sits outside at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor and does his homework, accepting the free ice cream Mr. Fortescue brings him every now and then while he does. Hedwig especially likes sitting with him while he does his homework because everybody who passes by stops to compliment her and praise her for being such a good owl and she soaks it all up like a sponge. Harry finds it hilarious.

Harry, not for the first time since arriving in the wizarding world, is glad to be blind. He thinks that if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have any self control while he stays here, surrounded by shops holding merchandise that he wants to do nothing more than buy the entire stock of. But, considering he literally can’t see half of the contents of the shops he visits, he doesn’t have to continue reminding himself to not buy everything. Though, there’s a new shop that he thinks might’ve opened up because of him (not that he’s  _ that  _ conceited but… come on). It’s a shop that is mainly directed at disabled witches and wizards. He’s had his resolve tested many times in this shop and has mainly ignored the voice in his mind telling him to control himself, because really, was he just  _ not  _ going to buy the self-writing quill that will take notes for him so Hermione doesn’t have to do it anymore? Or the magical white cane that works exactly like his Muggle one, except it has a cushioning charm on it for if he accidentally hits something or someone and it automatically repairs itself if it breaks? He’s even been tested by some items not even aimed toward blind people, like the attachment for a cauldron that flashes when a potion is ready, even though he absolutely doesn’t  _ need  _ that since he can’t even see the flashing. His argument is that Snape would find it extremely annoying, since the man is so blatantly ableist. 

The shop that tests his resolve even more than that one, though, is Quality Quidditch Supplies. And a week after his arrival at Diagon Alley, the one thing that he has to remind himself constantly that he doesn’t need it shows up. 

The Firebolt.

Never in his life has he wanted something more than the newest broom on the market. It’s advertised as the fastest racing broom in the world, but also the most expensive, if the  _ price on request  _ is anything to go by. 

There are, however, actual things that Harry needs to buy. He goes to the Apothecary to replenish his potion ingredients, and as his school robes are beginning to get a little short in the arms and legs, he visits Madam Malkin’s to buy new ones. He imagines, though, that he won’t grow much more, and will probably only have to buy a new set of robes once more. 

Most importantly, though, he needs new school books, which includes the books for his two new subjects, Care of Magical Creatures and Divination.

Harry gets a surprise when he consults his book list for the first time. On it is something called The Monster Book for Monsters, which is required for Care of Magical Creatures. He thinks back to Hagrid’s birthday gift and it suddenly makes sense. Hagrid must’ve bought him the book and it must act like an actual monster, hence the snapping sounds he heard. He makes a note to tie his belt around the book that he’s yet to unwrap so he doesn’t have to deal with getting his hand bitten off by it. 

When he enters Flourish and Blotts, the manager is on him in a flash.

“Hogwarts?” he says, already sounding exasperated. “Come to get your new books?” 

“Yes,” Harry nods, “I need —” 

“Get out of the way,” he says impatient, pushing Harry aside lightly. Hedwig claps her beak at him. 

“What?” Harry says. “I need  _ Unfogging the Future  _ by Cassandra Vablatsky, sir, not whatever you’re doing.”

“Really?” the manager says, sounding relieved. “Thank heavens. I’ve been bitten five times already this morning —”

There’s a loud ripping sound.

“Stop it! Stop it!” the manager cries. “I’m never stocking them again, never! It’s been bedlam! I thought we’d seen the worst when we bought two hundred copies of the  _ Invisible Book of Invisibility _ — cost a fortune, and we never found them… Well…  _ Unfogging the Future,  _ you said? Starting Divination, are you?”

Harry nods and follows the manager. 

“Here you are,” the manager says after a moment, handing him a book.  _ “Unfogging the Future. _ Very good guide to all your basic fortune-telling methods — palmistry, crystal balls, bird entrails.” There’s a pause and then the manager says, “Beautiful bird, by the way.”

Hedwig hoots and ruffles her feathers. Harry huffs a laugh. 

“Anything else?” the manager asks.

“Yes,” Harry says, deciding to just hand his book list to the manager.

_ “Intermediate Transfiguration _ and  _ The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three.  _ Follow me.”

He leaves Flourish and Blotts with his new books under his arms and Hedwig leading the way since he doesn’t have a hand to use his cane. 

The longer Harry stays at the Leaky Cauldron, the more he starts longing for his best friends to be with him. He’s talked to plenty of his other friends, though. He found Seamus and Dean in Quality Quidditch Supplies ogling the Firebolt and ran around with them for the day when they invited him along, which was fun. He ran into the real Neville outside Flourish and Blotts — actually ran into him. Neville had breathed a sigh of relief when his grandmother had stopped scolding him for something and began talking to Harry so Harry doesn’t think the boy minded one bit that Harry rammed into his side. Lady Longbottom chatted with him for quite a while, asking him how he is and how his summer has been, and Harry pretends not to hear the bitterness in her voice when she asks about his aunt and uncle. He decides he’ll ask Madam Pomfrey the next time he ends up in the hospital wing about Neville’s parents and if they were friends with his own parents. Lady Longbottom seems a little too knowledgeable about him to have just gotten her information from the  _ Daily Prophet.  _

On the last day of the holidays, Harry wakes up thinking that he would at least meet Hermione and Ron tomorrow on the Hogwarts Express. He eats breakfast with Hedwig and then heads out to Quality Quidditch Supplies to long after the Firebolt and then heads over to his other favorite shop, which is named Madame Delacroix’s Supplies for the Disabled Wizard. He’s just wondering where he’s going to have lunch when somebody yells his name.

“Harry! HARRY!”

Harry grins and quickly heads over to where he heard Ron’s voice.

“Finally!” Ron says as Harry sits down and Hedwig hops off his shoulder and onto the table. “We went to the Leaky Cauldron, but they said you’d left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin’s, and —” 

“I got all my school stuff last week,” Harry tells them. “And how come you knew I’m staying at the Leaky Cauldron?” 

“Dad,” Ron says simply. 

Which makes sense, seeing as Mr. Weasley works at the Ministry.

“Did you really blow up your aunt, Harry?” Hermione says in a serious voice. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Harry says, fighting a smile as Ron begins to laugh. “I just — lost control.” 

“It’s not funny, Ronald,” Hermione says sharply. “Honestly, I’m amazed Harry wasn’t expelled.” 

“So am I,” Harry shrugs. “Forget expelled, I thought I was going to be arrested. Your dad doesn’t know why Fudge let me off, does he?” 

“Probably ‘cause it’s you, innit?” Ron says, still snickering. “Famous Harry Potter and all that. I’d hate to see what the Ministry’d do to me if I blew up an aunt. Mind you, they’d have to dig me up first, because Mum would’ve killed me. Anyway, you can ask Dad yourself this evening. We’re staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight too! So you can come to King’s Cross with us tomorrow! Hermione’s there as well!”

“And Marianne,” Hermione chirps. The girl in question squeaks. “Mum and Dad dropped us off this morning and they’ll come pick her up at King’s Cross tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Harry says. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Marianne says quietly. “Is that your owl?”

Hedwig hoots.

Harry nods, “Her name is Hedwig. She’s taken to travelling around with me.”

“Well, I’m not surprised,” Hermione says. “She’s quite doting and protective over you. She’s like a little mother.”

Harry hears Hedwig ruffle her feathers at that.

“Don’t,” Harry says. “She already has a big enough head from everybody in Diagon Alley complimenting her.”

Hedwig claps her beak at him and he grins.

“So, have you got all your new books and stuff?” Harry asks.

There’s some rustling and then Ron says, “Brand-new wand. Fourteen inches, willow, containing one unicorn tail-hair. And we’ve got all our books — what about those Monster Books, eh? The assistant nearly cried when we said we wanted two.” 

“Y’know, I think I’m glad I can’t see Hermione’s bag,” Harry says.

Hermione harrumphs, “Well, I’m taking Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, the Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies —” 

“What are you doing Muggle Studies for?” Ron says, exasperated. “You’re muggleborn! Your mum and dad are Muggles! You already know all about Muggles!” 

“But it’ll be fascinating to study them from the wizarding point of view,” Hermione says.

“Are you planning to eat or sleep at all this year, Hermione?” Harry says. Ron laughs and Marianne giggles quietly while Hermione ignores them.

“I’ve still got ten Galleons,” she says. “It’s my birthday in September, and Mum and Dad gave me some money to get myself an early birthday present.” 

“How about a nice  _ book?”  _ Ron says innocently.

“No, I don’t think so,” Hermione says, not catching the joke. “I really want an owl. I mean, Harry’s got Hedwig and you’ve got Errol —” 

“I haven’t,” Ron says. “Errol’s a family owl. All I’ve got is Scabbers — and I want to get him checked over,” he adds. “I don’t think Egypt agreed with him.” 

“There’s a magical creature shop somewhere near here,” Harry gestures around them. “You could see if they’ve got anything for Scabbers, and Hermione can get her owl.” 

So, they eat their ice cream (Harry didn’t realize they were at Mr. Fortescue’s place until the man himself came by with a free sundae), and then head across the street to the Magical Menagerie.

Harry has a conversation with Marianne while they wait about his blindness and she informs him that, while it’s not the same, she has a prosthetic leg because of a sickness she had when she was very young. Ron finally walks up to the counter after about five minutes of waiting.

“It’s my rat,” he says. “He’s been a bit off-color ever since I brought him back from Egypt.” 

“Bang him on the counter,” the witch tells him.

There’s a beat of silence.

“Hm,” the witch hums. “How old is this rat?” 

“Dunno,” Ron says. “Quite old. He used to belong to my brother.” 

“What powers does he have?” the witch asks. 

“Er —” 

The thing about Scabbers is that he seems to just be a normal rat. He’s never once shown any magical powers.

“He’s been through the mill, this one,” the witch says. 

“He was like that when Percy gave him to me,” Ron says defensively. 

“An ordinary common or garden rat like this can’t be expected to live longer than three years or so,” the witch says. “Now, if you were looking for something a bit more hard-wearing, you might like one of these —” 

Ron mumbles, “Show offs,” so Harry assumes that he doesn’t want one of those.

“Well, if you don’t want a replacement, you can try this rat tonic,” the witch says.

“Okay,” Ron says. “How much — OUCH!” 

Harry jumps back. Hedwig begins squawking indignantly.

“NO, CROOKSHANKS, NO!” the witch cries.

“Scabbers!” Ron shouts, racing out of the shop. Harry follows quickly.

It takes Ron ten minutes to find Scabbers.

“What _ was _ that?” Ron says. 

“Mate, I don’t even know what  _ happened,  _ don’t ask me,” Harry says.

“Where’s Hermione?” Ron says instead of responding to that. 

“Probably getting her owl.” 

They make their way back to the Magical Menagerie.

“You  _ bought  _ that monster?” Ron says when Hermione joins them outside. 

“He’s  _ gorgeous, _ isn’t he?” Hermione says. Harry can hear Marianne laughing quietly.

“Hermione, that thing nearly scalped me!” Ron says.

“He didn’t mean to, did you, Crookshanks?” Hermione says.

“And what about Scabbers?” Ron says. “He needs rest and relaxation! How’s he going to get it with that thing around?” 

“That reminds me, you forgot your rat tonic,” Hermione says. “And stop worrying, Crookshanks will be sleeping in my dormitory and Scabbers in yours, what’s the problem? Poor Crookshanks, that witch said he’d been in there for ages; no one wanted him.” 

“Wonder why,” Ron says sarcastically.

“Um,” Harry quickly finds something to change the subject onto, “did you see the new shop?”

“What? Where?” Hermione says.

“Madame Delacroix’s Supplies for the Disabled Wizard,” he says.

“Oh!” Hermione says. “That’s wonderful. I assume you’ve been?”

“I have,” Harry beams. “I bought a lot of things. Like this self-writing quill so you don’t have to take notes for me anymore and I replaced my cane” — he holds his cane up to draw their attention to it — “since I’ve had that other one since I was like, seven and it was a little beaten up and I was getting a little too tall for it. Besides — this one is magical, it’s got a cushioning charm on it and it’ll repair itself automatically if it breaks. I also bought this book about charms that will help me do things easier — like get dressed or clean my area of the room, y’know? And then this little attachment for my cauldron that’ll beep when the potion is ready to be stirred or if it’s ready to be taken off the heat or whatever, which I think will help Ron and I both because we both get pretty distracted in that class. There’s so much more stuff in there though, it’s magnificent.”

“That’s awesome, Harry,” Ron says. 

They enter the Leaky Cauldron a minute later.

“Harry!” Mr. Weasley’s voice says. “How are you?” 

“Fine, thanks,” Harry says as they all sit down around him. 

“They still haven’t caught him, then?” Ron says. 

“No,” Mr. Weasley says. “They’ve pulled us all off our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find him, but no luck so far.” 

“Would we get a reward if we caught him?” Ron says. “It’d be good to get some more money —” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ron,” Mr. Weasley says tiredly. “Black’s not going to be caught by a thirteen-year-old wizard. It’s the Azkaban guards who’ll get him back, you mark my words.”

Harry hears the rest of the Weasleys enter, specifically Fred and George, who are talking to Ginny about one of their inventions. Ginny is very snarkily telling them how they might improve them and Harry finds that he quite likes hearing Ginny talk when she isn’t embarrassed. Hopefully, she’ll get over her crush on his soon and they can become actually good friends instead of just awkward acquaintances.

“Harry,” Percy’s voice says. “How nice to see you.” 

“Hello, Percy,” Harry grins. 

“I hope you’re well?” Percy says.

“Very well, thanks —” 

“Harry!” Fred interrupts, seizing Harry’s hand and shaking it vigorously. “Simply splendid to see you, old boy —” 

“Marvelous,” George says, pushing Fred aside and taking Harry’s hand. “Absolutely spiffing.” 

“That’s enough, now,” Mrs. Weasley says.

“Mum!” Fred says, as if just now spotting her. “How really corking to see you —” 

“I said, that’s enough,” Mrs. Weasley says. “Hello, Harry, dear. I suppose you’ve heard our exciting news? Second Head Boy in the family!” 

“And last,” Fred mutters under his breath, no longer chipper.

“I don’t doubt that,” Mrs. Weasley says. Harry frowns. “I notice they haven’t made you two prefects.”

“What do we want to be prefects for?” George says, sounding revolted at the mere thought. “It’d take all the fun out of life.” 

Ginny giggles.

“You want to set a better example for your sister!” Mrs. Weasley snaps.

“Ginny’s got other brothers to set her an example, Mother,” Percy says. “I’m going up to change for dinner…”

George heaves a great sigh. 

“We tried to shut him in a pyramid,” he tells Harry. “But Mum spotted us.” 

That night, Tom pushes three tables together, and the Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, and Marianne all eat their way through a delicious five course meal.

“How’re we getting to King’s Cross tomorrow, Dad?” Fred asks as Harry begins to eat some pudding.

“The Ministry’s providing a couple of cars,” Mr. Weasley says.

Harry lifts his head up.

“Why?” Percy says curiously.

“It’s because of you, Perce,” George says, completely serious. “And there’ll be little flags on the hoods, with HB on them—” 

“— for Humongous Bighead,” Fred says.

Everyone except Mrs. Weasley and Percy snort.

“Why are the Ministry providing cars, Father?” Percy asks, ignoring his siblings. 

“Well, as we haven’t got one anymore,” Mr. Weasley says, “and as I work there, they’re doing me a favor…” 

Harry feels a wave of guilt crash over him at the mention of Mr. Weasley old car.

“Good thing, too,” Mrs. Weasley says. “Do you realize how much luggage you’ve all got between you? A nice sight you’d be on the Muggle Underground… You are all packed, aren’t you?” 

“Ron hasn’t put all his new things in his trunk yet,” Percy says. “He’s dumped them on my bed.” 

“You’d better go and pack properly, Ron, because we won’t have much time in the morning,” Mrs. Weasley says.

Ron mumbles something under his breath that has Harry laughing around his pudding and Hermione scolding him. 

Later, after dinner, Harry has just closed and locked his own trunk when he hears angry voices through the wall. He quickly stands and heads out to ask Ron and Percy what the problem is.

“It was _here,_ on the bedside table, I took it off for polishing —”

“I haven’t touched it, all right?” Ron shouts back at his brother. 

“What’s up?” Harry says, entering the room.

“My Head Boy badge is gone,” Percy says.

“So’s Scabbers’ Rat Tonic,” Ron says. “I think I might’ve left it in the bar —” 

“You’re not going anywhere till you’ve found my badge!” Percy yells.

“I’ll get Scabbers’ stuff, I’m packed,” Harry tells Ron and then he heads downstairs.

He’s halfway down the passage to the bar when he hears the voices of Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Weasley in the parlor. He hesitates, not wanting to listen to them arguing, but when he hears his voice, he leans closer to the door.

“… makes no sense not to tell him,” Mr. Weasley says, sounding quite angry. “Harry’s got a right to know. I’ve tried to tell Fudge, but he insists on treating Harry like a child. He’s thirteen years old and —” 

“Arthur, the truth would terrify him!” Mrs. Weasley says shrilly. “Do you really want to send Harry back to school with that hanging over him? For heaven’s sake, he’s _happy_ not knowing!” 

“I don’t want to make him miserable, I want to put him on his guard!” Mrs. Weasley retorts. “You know what Harry and Ron are like, wandering off by themselves — they’ve ended up in the Forbidden Forest twice! But Harry mustn’t do that this year! When I think what could have happened to him that night he ran away from home! If the Knight Bus hadn’t picked him up, I’m prepared to bet he would have been dead before the Ministry found him.” 

“But he’s _not_ dead, he’s fine, so what’s the point —” 

“Molly, they say Sirius Black’s mad, and maybe he is, but he was clever enough to escape from Azkaban, and that’s supposed to be impossible. It’s been three weeks, and no one’s seen hide nor hair of him, and I don’t care what Fudge keeps telling the _Daily Prophet,_ we’re no nearer catching Black than inventing self-spelling wands. The only thing we know for sure is what Black’s after —” 

“But Harry will be perfectly safe at Hogwarts.” 

“We thought Azkaban was perfectly safe. If Black can break out of Azkaban, he can break into Hogwarts.” 

“But no one’s really sure that Black’s after Harry —” 

There’s a thud on wood and Harry is sure that Mr. Weasley had just banged his fist against the tabel. 

“Dammit, Molly, how many times do I have to tell you? They didn’t report it in the press because Fudge wanted it kept quiet, but Fudge went out to Azkaban the night Black escaped. The guards told Fudge that Black’s been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the same words: ‘He’s at Hogwarts… he’s at Hogwarts.’ Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants Harry dead. If you ask me, he thinks murdering Harry will bring You-Know-Who back to power. Black lost everything the night Harry stopped You-Know-Who, and he’s had twelve years alone in Azkaban to brood on that…” 

There’s a moment of silence. Harry leans closer, desperate to hear more. 

“Well, Arthur, you must do what you think is right. But you’re forgetting Dumbledore. I don’t think anything could hurt Harry at Hogwarts while Dumbledore’s Headmaster. I suppose he knows about all this?” 

“Of course he knows. We had to ask him if he minds the Azkaban guards stationing themselves around the entrances to the school grounds. He wasn’t happy about it, but he agreed.” 

“Not happy? Why shouldn’t he be happy, if they’re there to catch Black?”

“Dumbledore isn’t fond of the Azkaban guards,” Mr. Weasley says heavily. “Nor am I, if it comes to that… but when you’re dealing with a wizard like Black, you sometimes have to join forces with those you’d rather avoid.” 

“If they save Harry —” 

“— then I will never say another word against them,” Mr. Weasley says. “It’s late, Molly, we’d better go up…” 

Harry panics as he hears chairs scraping against the floor and he quickly finishes the walk to the bar. He clambers about and finds the rat tonic under the table they sat at earlier. 

He, as quickly as possible, gives the rat tonic to Ron and then locks himself in his room.

So… Sirius Black is after him.

It explains everything.

Fudge had been lenient with him because he was relieved to find Harry alive. He made Harry promise to stay in Diagon Alley because there’s plenty of wizards to keep an eye on him. And he’s sending the Ministry cars tomorrow so the Weasleys can keep an eye on him until he’s on the train. 

Harry lays on his bed, listening to the muffled shouting of his best friend and Percy, and wonders why he’s not more scared. Sirius had murdered thirteen people with one curse and now he’s after Harry. He  _ should  _ be terrified… but he’s just mildly miffed. Besides, with this knowledge, Harry now knows that his chances of going to Hogsmeade are now slim to none. The professors will want to keep him in the castle where they can keep an eye on him and if he’s at Hogsmeade, they can’t really do that. 

He scowls. He knows he’s blind but really, he  _ can  _ look after himself. 

“I’m  _ not  _ going to be murdered,” he firmly says aloud.

“That’s the spirit, dear,” his mirror says sleepily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hedwig finally being able to be the perfect little owl she is and getting complimented for it i just 🥺🥺  
> the wizarding world seeing harry show up, blind, and immediately going 'shit shit shit open up a shop for disabled people, why don't we already have one' is SO FUNNY  
> harry, calling snape out for his ableism? you already know it  
> short harry short harry short harry short harry short harry short har-  
> '- palmistry, crystal balls, bird entrails... beautiful bird, by the way' LMAO  
> augusta longbottom. that's it, that's all. just... her  
> marianne granger marianne granger marianne granger marianne gran-  
> 'how about a nice book?' 'no, i don't think so' hermione not understand that joke is so funny   
> 'she's like a little mother' hedwig heard hermione say this and wanted nothing more than to say 'yes, that is exactly what i'm going for, thank you for noticing'  
> marianne is a fucking QUEEN i love her so much  
> 'he needs rest and relaxation!' ron you are so fucking funny i don't think you realize it  
> harry being so happy about everything he bought himself is so cute 🥺🥺 i love him so much  
> fred and george telling ginny about their inventions and ginny just being like 'oh, that's cool, but here's how it could be cooler' is Peak Ginny. and you know for a FACT that fred and george listened and did what she told them to. i bet this little girl has so much power over the twins, it's not even funny  
> molly :( be nice to your sons   
> arthur said a naughty word >:) it was so satisfying to write that 'dammit molly'   
> 'he's just mildly miffed' is a very harry thing. 'oh, my life is being threatened once more... damn, that sucks'  
> anyway  
> i've decided we're going to do a 'there's a (long) moment/beat of silence' count at the end of this book. i realize that i write that phrase more than anything so look forward to that  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	5. The Dementor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i need to put any trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

Tom wakes Harry up at eight am, as usual, and hands him a cup of tea. Harry gets dressed and is trying to persuade Hedwig, who keeps squawking very angrily at him, to get into her cage when Ron bursts into his room.

“The sooner we get on the train, the better,” he grumbles, beginning to help Harry get Hedwig into her cage. Hedwig finally caves a minute later. “At least I can get away from Percy at Hogwarts,” Ron says as Harry shuts and locks Hedwig’s cage. “Honestly, he should already know it was the twins, the prick…”   


“I’ve gotta tell you something,” Harry says, but he’s cut off by Fred and George entering his room and beginning to congratulate Ron on making Percy angry again.

The four of them head downstairs to breakfast and find Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Marianne, and Hermione already at the table. 

“What were you saying?” Ron asks as they sit down.

“Later,” Harry mumbles.

But Harry doesn’t get the opportunity to talk to Ron and Hermione in the chaos of leaving. They all heave their trunks downstairs and set them by the door, Hedwig perched on top of Harry’s trunk, Hermes perched on Percy’s, and an angry Crookshanks perched on top of Hermione’s.

Ron and Hermione are just beginning to fight about whether or not Hermione should let Crookshanks out on the train when Mr. Weasley sticks his head in the door and informs them that the Ministry cars are outside.

Harry gets in one of the cars first, Ron, Hermione, and Marianne joining him shortly after. 

The ride is quite uneventful compared to Harry’s ride on the Knight Bus. They reach King’s Cross with twenty minutes to spare and Marianne tells them that she’ll join them on the platform and then go wait for her parents. Hermione happily agrees.

“Right then,” Mr. Weasley says when they reach the barriers, his elbow in Harry’s hand. He hadn’t given Harry the option to hold onto Ron’s. “Let’s do this in pairs, as there are so many of us. I’ll go through first with Harry.” 

Mr. Weasley walks forward quickly, pushing Harry's trolley for him. Harry follows and the dull sounds of King’s Cross are quickly replaced by the chaos of Platform Nine and Three Quarters. They’re quickly followed by another pair and Harry quickly learns who they are when he hears Ginny’s voice say, “Oh, I think I see Oliver over there, Percy.”

“Where?” Percy says quickly.

Ginny doesn’t try at all to hide her laughter and Harry hears a smack and then another and then —

“Quit it, both of you,” Mrs. Weasley’s voice says sharply. 

“Is that Oliver?” Fred pipes up.

“Shut up!” Percy growls. Fred, George, and Ginny dissolve into laughter. 

Harry frowns, only slightly, but he doesn’t get long to dwell on his feelings about Oliver and Percy as Mr. Weasley begins striding forward and he’s forced to catch up quickly and press himself against the man to avoid touching people.

They find an empty compartment quickly enough and load all their luggage onto it before heading back out to say goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Harry feels slightly embarrassed but very happy when Mrs. Weasley gives him an extra hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Do take care, won’t you Harry?” she says when she lets go of him. Harry sends her a smile. “I’ve made you all sandwiches. Here you are, Ron… no, they’re not corned beef… Fred? Where’s Fred? Here you are dear…” 

“Harry,” Mr. Weasley says quietly, “come over here for a moment.” 

Harry follows him over to where he must’ve indicated.

“There’s something I’ve got to tell you before you leave —” he begins in a tense voice.

“It’s all right, Mr. Weasley,” Harry says, “I already know.” 

“You know? How could you know?” 

“I — er — I heard you and Mrs. Wesley talking last night. I couldn’t help hearing,” he suddenly feels quite scared of Mr. Weasley’s reaction. “I’m sorry —” 

“That’s not the way I’d have chosen for you to find out,” Mr. Weasley says.

“No — honestly it’s okay,” Harry says quickly. “This way, you haven’t broken your word to Fudge and I know what’s going on.” 

“Harry, you must be scared — “ 

“I’m not,” Harry says, shrugging.  _ “Really,” _ he adds, because Mr. Weasley’s silence was quite obviously disbelieving. “I’m not trying to be a hero, but seriously, Sirius Black can’t be worse than Lord Voldemort, can he?” 

“Harry, I knew you were, well, made of stronger stuff than Fudge seems to think, and I’m obviously pleased that you’re not scared, but —” 

“Arthur!” Mrs. Weasley calls. “Arthur, what are you doing? It’s about to go!” 

“He’s coming Molly!” Mr. Weasley says before continuing in a hurried voice, “Listen, I want you to give me your word —” 

“ — that I’ll be a good boy and stay in the castle?” Harry raises an eyebrow.

“Not entirely,” Mr. Weasley says, sounding more serious than Harry has ever heard him. “Harry, swear to me you won’t go looking for Black.” 

Harry blinks, “You’re joking?”

The train whistles.   


“Promise me, Harry,” Mr. Weasley says, talking even faster, “that whatever happens —” 

“Why would I go looking for someone I know wants to kill me?” Harry says wryly.

“Swear to me that whatever you might hear —” 

“Arthur, quickly!” Mrs. Weasley cries.

Harry quickly runs over and jumps on the train just as it starts to move. He leans out of the window to wave at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, as well as Marianne. 

“I need to talk to you in private,” Harry says quietly to Ron and Hermione once the train begins to pick up speed.

“Go away, Ginny,” Ron says.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Ginny scoffs. “Don’t let Percy catch you wandering,” she adds cheekily.

“You’re the reason he’s being a dick,” Ron says blankly.

“And what about it?” Ginny says before walking off.

Ron sighs, “She’s so annoying. C’mon, let’s find a compartment.”

“I thought he was mad at you,” Hermione says as they start walking.

“He’s mad at all of us,” Ron mumbles. “But yeah, he still thinks I’m the one who touched his badge.”

“Well, maybe if the four of you weren’t so mean to him —”

“I literally said like, four words to him the whole time we were in Egypt, it’s all the twins and Ginny!” Ron says defensively. 

“What did they do to him in Egypt, then?” Hermione says.

“I don’t know,” Ron says. “I was with Bill and Charlie practically the whole time — I didn’t care to get involved with their pranks. Let’s sit here, I don’t think we’re gonna find an empty one.”

“Is somebody in here?” Harry says and Ron pushes him onto a seat and then sits next to him.

“He’s asleep,” Ron says, lowering his voice. “Adult. Who do you think he is?”

“Professor R. J. Lupin,” Hermione says at once.

“What?” Harry says.

“How do you know that?” Ron says.

“It’s on his suitcase,” Hermione says. 

“Lupin?” Harry mutters. 

First, Sirius Black shows up, and now Remus Lupin? Well… at least this one isn’t a murderer. That counts for something, at least.

“Anyway,” Ron says, “what’d you want to tell us?”

“Right —”

Harry jumps into the story. He tells them about the argument Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had and then about the warning Mr. Weasley just gave him. By the end, Hermione and Ron seem a little more concerned about it than he himself does.

“Sirius Black escaped to come after  _ you? _ Oh, Harry… you’ll have to be really, really careful. don’t go looking for trouble, Harry…” Hermione says quietly.

“I don’t go looking for trouble,” Harry says, scowling. “Trouble usually finds _ me.”  _

“How thick would Harry have to be, to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him?” Ron says, his voice shaking. 

Harry frowns. He really hadn’t expected them to take the news like this.

“No one knows how he got out of Azkaban,” Ron says. “No one’s ever done it before. And he was a top-security prisoner too.” 

“But they’ll catch him, won’t they?” Hermione says. “I mean, they’ve got all the Muggles looking out for him too…” 

“What’s that noise?” Ron says suddenly. 

A faint, tinny sort of whistle is coming from somewhere. 

“It’s coming from your trunk, Harry,” Ron says.

“Mine?” Harry says. “What is it?”

Ron drops back into his seat next to Harry, the sound now louder than it was.

“Is that a  _ Sneakoscope?” _ Hermione says. 

“Yeah… mind you, it’s a very cheap one,” Ron says. “It went haywire just as I was tying it to Errol’s leg to send it to Harry.” 

“Were you doing anything untrustworthy at the time?” Hermione says.

“No! Well… I wasn’t supposed to be using Errol. You know he’s not really up to long journeys… but how else was I supposed to get Harry’s present to him?” 

“Stick it back in the trunk,” Harry says, wincing when the Sneakoscope whistles loudly, “or it’ll wake him up.” 

Ron does as he’s told.

“We could get it checked in Hogsmeade,” Ron says as he sits back down. “They sell that sort of thing in Dervish and Banges, magical instruments and stuff. Fred and George told me.” 

“Do you know much about Hogsmeade?” Hermione asks. “I’ve read it’s the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain —” 

“Yeah, I think it is,” Ron says offhandedly, “but that’s not why I want to go. I just want to get inside Honeydukes!” 

“What’s that?” Hermione says. 

“It’s this sweetshop,” Ron says dreamily, “where they’ve got everything… Pepper Imps — they make you smoke at the mouth — and great fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and really excellent sugar quills, which you can suck in class and just look like you’re thinking what to write next–” 

“But Hogsmeade’s a very interesting place, isn’t it?” Hermione says eagerly. “In Sites of Historical Sorcery it says the inn was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack’s supposed to be the most severely haunted building in Britain —” 

“– and massive sherbet balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground while you’re sucking them,” Ron says, not listening to a word Hermione is saying.

“Won’t it be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade?” Hermione says to Harry, having realized she’s not getting anywhere with Ron. 

“‘Spect it will,” Harry says heavily. “You’ll have to tell me when you’ve found out.” 

“What d’you mean?” Ron says. 

“I can’t go. The Dursleys didn’t sign my permission form.”

“You’re not allowed to come?” Ron says, sounding horrified. “But — no way — McGonagall or someone will give you permission —” 

Harry gives a hollow laugh and rolls his eyes.

“— or we can ask Fred and George, they know every secret passage out of the castle —” 

“Ron!” Hermione says sharply. “I don’t think Harry should be sneaking out of the school with Black on the loose —” 

“Yeah, I expect that’s what McGonagall will say when I ask of permission,” Harry says bitterly.

“But if we’re with him,” Ron says, “Black wouldn’t dare —” 

“Oh, Ron, don’t talk rubbish,” Hermione snaps. “Black’s already murdered a whole bunch of people in the middle of a crowded street, do you really think he’s going to worry about attacking Harry just because  _ we’re _ there?” 

“Don’t let that thing out!” Ron says, abandoning the conversation.

Crookshanks gives a loud yawn and meow.

“Get off!” Ron says loudly.

“Ron, don’t!” Hermione says angrily.

The two fall silent when Professor Lupin (Remus? Harry isn’t sure what to call his dad’s past best friend) stirs, though he continues to sleep on.

Crookshanks jumps on Harry’s lap, then, and settles down, beginning to purr loudly when Harry scratches behind his ear. 

“Don’t encourage that beast,” Ron says grumpily.

“Oh, hush up, Ronald,” Harry says, kicking Ron’s shin lightly. 

“Not you too. You’re supposed to be on my side here.”

“I’ll be on your side when your pet is an animal I’m actually fond of.”

“That’s quite possibly the most offensive thing you’ve ever said to me, Harry.”

“I can say something even more offensive.”

“Please don’t.”

The train continues steadily north. Hermione informs Harry that it’ll most likely be raining when they reach Hogwarts and Harry happily tells her that he’s been reading about all sorts of charms over the summer and he can test out a drying charm when they get inside the castle. Ron says he should find a charm that makes him a better friend and Harry laughs.

At one o’clock, the compartment door slides open and the trolley witch asks if they want any food.

“Should we wake him up?” Ron says quietly.

“Don’t worry, dear,” the witch says, sounding all too familiar with the situation. “If he’s hungry when he wakes up, he knows right where to find me.”

Mid-afternoon, just after it’s started to rain, the door slides open again.

“Well, look who it is,” Malfoy’s voice says, as if he hadn’t come looking for their compartment just to taunt them. “Potty and Weasel.”

Harry snorts and turns his head away. Hermione kicks his shin.

“I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer, Weasley,” Malfoy says, ignoring Harry. “Did your mother die of shock?”

Ron stands up. Professor Lupin gives a snort.

“Who’s that?” Malfoy says.

“New teacher,” Harry stands up as well, just in case he needs to hold Ron back. “What were you saying, Malfoy?” 

There’s a pause before Malfoy says, resigned, “C’mon.”

Harry and Ron sit back down.

“I’m not going to take any crap from Malfoy this year,” Ron says angrily. “I mean it. If he makes one more crack about my family, I’m going to get hold of his head and —” 

“Ron,” Hermione hisses, “be  _ careful…” _

The train continues on. Harry’s eyes begin to droop and at some point, his head falls on Ron’s shoulder and he doesn’t move it and neither does Ron. His eyes are closed when Ron mumbles, “We must be nearly there.”

Harry opens his eyes when the train begins to slow and, reluctantly, he lifts his head off Ron’s shoulder and yawns, “Are we there?”

“We can’t be,” Hermione says. 

“Then why are we stopping?”

Ron stands up to look outside the compartment.

The train slows and slows until finally, it stops with a jolt. 

“What’s going on?” Ron says a second later.

“Ouch! Ron, that was my foot!” Hermione hisses.

“Have the lights gone out?” Harry says.

“Yeah… do you think we’ve broken down?” Ron says.

“Who knows…”

There’s a squeaking sound and then Ron says, “There’s something moving out there. I think people are getting on the train.”

The compartment door suddenly opens and somebody trips over Harry’s legs and lands with a painful sounding thud.

“Sorry! D’you know what’s going on? Ouch! Sorry —”

“Honestly, you people are so privileged,” Harry pulls Neville up by his cloak.

“Harry? Is that you? What’s happening?” 

“Don’t ask me, I’m the one who can’t see no matter what the lighting is. Sit down.”

“I’m going to go and ask the driver what’s going on,” Hermione says, standing up and passing by Harry. 

The door slides open again and Harry hear two loud squeals of pain.

“Who’s that?” 

“Who’s  _ that?” _

“Ginny?” 

“Hermione?” 

“What are you doing?” 

“I was looking for Ron —” 

“Come in and sit down —” 

“Not here!” Harry scowls. “Does nobody know  _ Lumos?” _

“Sorry, Harry!”

“Quiet!” a hoarse voice says, one Harry doesn’t recognize. He assumes it’s Professor Lupin.

Harry hears a soft crackling noise and then Lupin says, “Stay where you are.”

But before he can leave, the door slides open slowly. 

There’s a moment of silence before Harry hears something take a long, rattling breath. An intense cold sweeps over the compartment. Harry feels his breath catch in his throat. He feels the cold all the way inside his heart. 

His eyes suddenly roll into his head and he feels like he’s drowning in cold. There’s a roaring in his ears, almost like he’s being dragged under water, and distantly, he hears somebody screaming. Pleading, terrified, horrible screams. He wants to help them but he can’t move his arms — his legs — everything goes fuzzy, it feels like his very magic is being sucked out of his body —

“Harry! Harry! Are you alright?”

Somebody is slapping his face. 

“W-what?” 

He opens his eyes and when he reaches up to swat the hand touching him away, he suddenly gets very dizzy. He’s picked up off the ground and placed back into his seat.

“Are you okay?” Ron asks nervously, his voice shaky. He sounds terrified and Harry wants nothing more than to make him feel better.

“Yeah,” Harry breathes. “What happened? Why did I — what was that?”

A loud snap makes him jump. 

“Here,” the voice of Professor Lupin, Harry assumes, says, placing something into his hand. “It’s chocolate. Eat it. It’ll help.” 

Harry doesn’t eat it and instead asks, “What happened to me?” 

“It was a Dementor,” Lupin says. “One of the Dementors of Azkaban.” 

Harry blinks.

“Eat,” Lupin repeats, as if what he just said isn’t insane. “It’ll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me…” 

With that, he leaves the compartment.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Harry?” Hermione says.

“I don’t understand,” Harry says. “What — what happened?”

“Well — that thing — the Dementor — stood there and looked around (I mean, I think it did, I couldn’t see its face) — and you — you —” 

“I thought you were having a fit or something,” Ron says, still sounding terrified. “You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching —” 

“And Professor Lupin stepped over you, and walked toward the Dementor, and pulled out his wand,” Hermione continues, “and he said, ‘None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.’ But the Dementor didn’t move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away…” 

“It was horrible,” Neville’s voice says shakily. “Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?” 

“I felt weird,” Ron says, finally sitting back down next to Harry. “Like I’d never be cheerful again…” 

Somebody gives a small sob.

“But didn’t any of you — fall off your seats?” Harry says awkwardly.

“No,” Ron says. He suddenly grips Harry’s wrist as if he’s afraid Harry might pass out again. “Ginny was shaking like mad, though…” 

Harry feels a burst of shame. Why was he the only one to pass out?

The door slides open and there’s a pause before Lupin says in a slightly amused voice, “I haven’t poisoned that chocolate, you know…” 

Harry quickly takes a bite and feels warmth spread from his head to his toes. He hums.

“We’ll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes,” Lupin tells them. “Are you all right, Harry?” 

Harry very suddenly gets reminded of the fact that this is his dad’s best friend in front of him.

“Fine,” he mutters, feeling quite embarrassed. “What about you guys? Ginny?”

Nobody gives him a straight answer and he understands why. The dementor made him feel like he’d never be okay again.

“Hey — I’m sorry for ever getting frustrated with you for being blind,” Ron says, lifting the mood almost instantly. 

“As you should be,” Harry crosses his arms. “And you guys only had to deal with it for a few minutes. I’ve been like that since I was seven.”

“Seven?” Hermione says shrilly.

“Seven,” Harry nods. “I woke up on my seventh birthday completely blind. Take that few minutes, think about six years of it. Minus the few instances that I was able to see, like last year.”

“That’s right,” Hermione says. “I completely forgot about that. What was that like?”

Harry blinks. “Um… very underwhelming. I quite prefer being blind, actually. I guess it doesn’t help that the only faces I got to see were Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, Percy, and Penelope Clearwater. Which, by the way, I hope you know that any time you mention your brothers, I only picture Percy.”

“Oh Merlin, Fred and George would cry if you told them that,” Ron says.

“Then I’ll put it on my to-do list.”

Ginny gives a wet laugh and Harry grins.

Finally, the train comes to a stop. Harry clings to Ron’s elbow, his cane in his other hand, as they get off the train. He thinks he’s going to miss Hedwig flying around everywhere with him. Though, if he really wanted to, he could definitely convince the professors to let her hang around with him.

Harry waves in Hagrid’s direction when he greets them before pressing himself even closer to Ron, trying to gather some semblance of warmth. The rain and wind are extremely cold. 

Eventually, Harry climbs into a carriage with Ron and Hermione. None of them speak as they’re taken up to the castle. When the carriages stop and they jump onto the ground, a drawling voice fills their ears.

“You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottorn telling the truth? You actually fainted?” Malfoy says, his voice coming from in front of Harry. Ron pulls Harry to a stop.

“Shove off, Malfoy,” Ron says.

“Did you faint as well, Weasley?” Malfoy says loudly. “Did the scary old Dementor frighten you too, Weasley?” 

“Is there a problem?” a different voice says.

There’s a pause and then Malfoy says, very derisively, “Oh, no — er —  _ Professor.” _

The trio heads inside, Ron muttering curses under his breath, and have just entered the Great Hall when a voice calls out, “Potter! Granger! I want to see you both!” 

The two of them fight their way over to the voice, shocked.

“There’s no need to look so worried — I just want a word in my office,” Professor McGonagall says. “Move along there, Weasley.”

They follow her all the way to her office. Harry and Hermione take a seat and then she says, “Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that you were taken ill on the train, Potter.” 

Before Harry can reply, though, there’s a knock on the door and somebody enters.

“I’m fine,” he says quickly.

“Oh, it’s you, is it?” Madam Pomfrey’s voice says. Harry, who is already quite cross with the woman for never mentioning the fact that Sirius Black is a murderer, scowls. “I suppose you’ve been doing something dangerous again?” 

“It was a Dementor, Poppy,” Professor McGonagall says darkly.

Madam Pomfrey tsks.

“Setting Dementors around a school,” Madam Pomfrey mumbles, pushing Harry’s hair back and feeling his forehead. “He won’t be the last one who collapses. Yes, he’s all clammy. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate —” 

“I’m not delicate!” Harry exclaims, no offense actually taken because Madam Pomfrey thinks everybody is delicate. She probably thinks Professor McGonagall is delicate.

“Of course you’re not,” she says absentmindedly, checking his pulse.

“What does he need?” Professor McGonagall says. “Bed rest? Should he perhaps spend tonight in the hospital wing?” 

“I’m fine!” Harry jumps up, contorting his face into his best glare and directing it at Madam Pomfrey.

“Well, he should have some chocolate, at the very least,” Madam Pomfrey says, pulling his eyelids back with her fingers to peer into his eyes. 

“I’ve already had some,” Harry says, swatting her hand away lightly. She swats his hand back and checks his other eye. “Professor Lupin gave me some. He gave it to all of us.” 

“Did he, now?” Madam Pomfrey says approvingly. “So we’ve finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies?” 

“Are you sure you feel alright, Potter?” Professor McGonagall says.

“Yes,” Harry says vehemently, swatting at Madam Pomfrey’s hand again when she pushes his head to the side. She, again, swats him back.

“Very well. Kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Miss Granger about her course schedule, then we can go down to the feast together.”

Harry huffs and earns a huff back from Madam Pomfrey before the two of them leave.

“Do try and be careful, Potter,” she says shortly. “I’m not very keen to see you often this year.”

“Well, I’m not very keen to be near you this year, either,” Harry crosses his arms.

She huffs again and then walks away. 

A few minutes later, Hermione and Professor McGonagall emerge from her office and then three of them head down to the Great Hall. They’ve missed the Sorting but the feast hasn’t started yet, which is good. 

Harry begins to explain what that was all about to Ron but he stops when Professor Dumbledore begins to speak.

“Welcome!” Dumbleodre says. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast…” 

He clears his throat and continue, “As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business.” He paused, and Harry remembered what Mr. Weasley had said about Dumbledore not being happy with the Dementors guarding the school. 

“They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises — or even Invisibility Cloaks,” he adds and Ron nudges Harry’s thigh with his knee. “It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“On a happier note,” he continues, “I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. 

“First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” 

There’s some scattered and unenthusiastic applause. The five that had been in the compartment on the train with Lupin clap hard, though.

“As to our second new appointment,” Dumbledore says as everyone quiets down. “Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties.” 

The applause is quite a bit louder and enthusiastic for Hagrid, especially at the Gryffindor table. 

“We should’ve known!” Ron roars, delighted. “Who else would have assigned us a biting book?” 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione are the last to stop clapping.

“Well, I think that’s everything of importance,” Dumbledore says. “Let the feast begin!” 

The feast is spectacular as always and as soon as Dumbledore tells everybody that it’s time for bed, Harry, Ron, and Hermione make their way over to Hagrid to congratulate him.

“Congratulations, Hagrid!” Hermione squeals when they reach him.

“All down ter you three,” Hagrid says, sounding choked up. “Can’ believe it… great man, Dumbledore… came straight down to me hut after Professor Kettleburn said he’d had enough… It’s what I always wanted…” 

The trio joins the other Gryffindors heading up to the common room after Professor McGonagall shoos them away. 

The portrait hiding the entrance to the common room (who’s name is Beatrice Kilian, Harry learned sometime last year) asks them, “Password?” when they reach her. 

“Coming through, coming through!” Percy calls. “The new password’s  _ Fortuna Major!” _

“Oh no,” Neville mumbles, most likely worried that he’ll forget the password like he’s been wont to do in the past.

They all climb through the portrait hole. Harry and Ron say goodnight to Hermione and head up to their separate dorms. Dean and Seamus give Harry an enthusiastic and slightly overwhelming hello when the door closes and then immediately turn around to start teasing Neville about his crush on Hufflepuff Hannah Abbott. Neville, who always gains a lot more confidence in their dorm, is quick to defend himself and tease them back.

Harry smiles. 

He’s finally home again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ginny, fred, and george are so mean i love them  
> getting closer to the Do I Like Gay People Talk  
> stan arthur weasley  
> ron and ginny being Siblings. "she's so annoying" I LOVE THEM  
> bill, ron, and charlie are the siblings that calmly spin in the tea cups, talking idly, while ginny, fred, and george are the ones spinning at Top Speed and screaming bloody murder the whole time  
> 'at least this one isn't a murderer' the bar is SO LOW  
> 'ron says he should find a charm that makes him a better friend and harry laughs' they are so CUTE  
> the trolley witch said 'remus lupin? oh we know each other'  
> 'as if he hadn’t come looking for their compartment just to taunt them' like seriously why did he say 'well look who is it' sir you came looking for them why are you surprised  
> harry laughing at 'potty' is Peak Harry  
> HARRY PUT HIS HEAD ON RON'S SHOULDER AND WAS FALLING ASLEEP I FUCKING CAN'T THEY ARE SO CUTE OH MY GOD  
> harry calling everybody privileged is so funny i love him  
> 'and harry wants nothing more than to make him feel better' brb crying  
> harry and madam pomfrey acting like literally brother and sister makes me so happy. this woman has saved his life on multiple occasions and he's just like 'touch me and i will scream' and i think that's neat  
> beatrice kilian, my queen  
> dean and seamus are like 'haha you like hannah loser' and neville looks them straight in the eyes and says with a straight face 'at least i'm not in love with my best friend' and fucking murders all four of his roommates on the spot without even realizing what he said worked for harry and ron as well  
> anyway  
> dropping my social media's :) wattpad is ahoeinplainsight, tumblr is ahoeinplainsight, tiktok is jigglyhufflepuff  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	6. Talons and Tea Leaves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i need to put any trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

When Harry, Ron, and Hermione enter the Great Hall the next morning, Harry hears uproarious laughter from what he assumes in the Slytherin table. His assumption is proved correct by the voice of Pansy Parkinson taunting him.

“Hey, Potter! Potter! The Dementors are coming, Potter!  _ Woooooooooo!”  _

Harry rolls his eyes. He drops into a seat at the Gryffindor table.

“Your schedule,” George’s voice says, placing a piece of parchment in Harry’s hand. “What’s up, mate?”

“Malfoy,” Ron says.

Fred snorts. 

“That little git,” George says evenly. “He wasn’t so cocky last night when the Dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn’t he, Fred?” 

“Nearly wet himself,” Fred says.

“I wasn’t too happy myself,” George says. “They’re horrible things, those Dementors…” 

“Sort of freeze your insides, don’t they?” Fred mumbles. 

“You didn’t pass out, though, did you?” Harry says quietly.

“Forget it, Harry,” George says, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he’d ever been, he came back all weak and shaking… They suck the happiness out of a place, Dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there.” 

“Anyway, we’ll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match,” Fred says. “Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?” 

Harry grins and begins to pile food onto his plate with a little input from Ron if he starts to pick something he won’t want to eat up.

“Ooh, good, we’re starting some new subjects today,” Hermione says happily.

“Hermione,” Ron says, “they’ve messed up your timetable. Look — they’ve got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn’t enough time.” 

“I’ll manage. I’ve fixed it all with Professor McGonagall.” 

“But look,” Ron says, laughing, “see this morning? Nine o’clock, Divination. And underneath, nine o’clock, Muggle Studies. And — look — underneath that, Arithmancy, nine o’clock. I mean, I know you’re good, Hermione, but no one’s that good. How’re you supposed to be in three classes at once?” 

“Don’t be silly,” Hermione says shortly. “Of course I won’t be in three classes at once.” 

“Well then —” 

“Pass the marmalade,” Hermione says.

“But —” 

“Oh, Ron, what’s it to you if my timetable’s a bit full?” Hermione snaps. “I told you, I’ve fixed it all with Professor McGonagall.” 

“All righ’?” Hagrid’s voice says, interrupting the two. “Yer in my firs’ ever lesson! Right after lunch! Bin up since five getting’ everthin’ ready… hope it’s okay… me, a teacher… hones’ly…”

“Wonder what he’s been getting ready?” Ron says, sounding slightly anxious.

Harry shrugs and continues eating.

At some point, Ron says, “We’d better go, look, Divination’s at the top of North Tower. It’ll take us ten minutes to get there…” 

Harry quickly finishes his breakfast. They say goodbye to Fred and George and then leave the Great Hall. 

The walk up to the North Tower is quite a long one. 

“There’s — got — to — be — a — short — cut,” Ron pants as they finally finish climbing the stairs of the tower. 

“I think it’s this way,” Hermione says. 

“Can’t be,” Ron says. “That’s south. Look, you can see a bit of the lake outside the window…” 

Harry interests himself with twirling his wand around in his hand, tuning his friends out. 

“Aha!” somebody yells and Harry jumps, stumbling back into Ron. Ron steadies him on instinct. “What villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!” 

“What is happening?” Harry says. 

“Get back, you scurvy braggart! Back, you rogue!”

“Listen,” Ron says, “we’re looking for the North Tower. You don’t know the way, do you?” 

“A quest!” the anger previously heard in the man’s voice vanishes instantly. “Come follow me, dear friends, and we shall find our goal, or else shall perish bravely in the charge… On foot then, good sirs and gentle lady! On! On!”

“Ron, what are we doing?” Harry asks again as Ron tugs him along.

“Following a knight,” Ron huffs. “A painting.”

Harry groans as Ron speeds up. 

After a long few minutes of running, they finally come to a stop.

“Farewell!” the knight cries. “Farewell, my comrades-in-arms! If ever you have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!” 

“Yeah, we’ll call you,” Ron mutters, “if we ever need someone mental.” Harry snorts.

They climb the last few steps and emerge onto a landing that, from the sound of it, seems to already hold most of the class.

Harry huffs and rubs his face.

“How do we get up there?” Ron mumbles.

There’s a creak and then something drops in front of Harry's feet. He jumps back and then groans again, “What the  _ fuck?” _

“Harry!” Hermione slaps his shoulder.

“It’s a ladder,” Ron says. There’s a long moment of silence. “Well, after you, Dean.”

“What? No! Neville, you go,” Dean says.

“Absolutely not,” Neville says. “Seamus.”

“Oh, honestly, it’s a ladder, you idiots,” the voice of Lavender Brown says. “C’mon, Parvati.”

The two girls climb up and the rest of the class is quick to follow.

“Where is she?” Ron says once they’re inside the classroom. 

“Welcome,” a voice suddenly says. Harry jumps again and then whacks Ron’s shins with his cane when he laughs. Ron mumbles something about the cushioning charm on the cane, prompting Harry to hit him again. “How nice to see you in the physical world at last. Sit, my children, sit,” 

Ron pushes Harry down onto a pillow and then sits on his right. Hermione sits on his left. 

“Welcome to Divination. My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye.” 

Nobody says anything.

“So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you… Books can take you only so far in this field…” 

Harry tilts his head, furrowing his eyebrows. He hears some giggles from other students and he just knows they’re looking at him.

“Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future,” Professor Trelawney says. “It is a Gift granted to few. You, boy… Is your grandmother well?” 

“I think so,” Neville says shakily. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you, dear,” Professor Trelawney says. Neville makes a noise. “We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear, beware a red-haired man.” 

“Rude,” Ron mutters.

“No offense,” Parvati whispers.

“In the second term,” Professor Trelawney continues, “we shall progress to the crystal ball — if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever.” 

There’s a very tense silence after this. She ignores it.

“I wonder, dear, if you could pass me the largest silver teapot? Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading — it will happen on Friday the sixteenth of October.” 

“Oh, Merlin,” Lavender mumbles.

“Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of Unfogging the Future. I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear, after you’ve broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue patterned ones? I’m rather attached to the pink.”

Ten minutes later, Ron and Harry have drained their teacups and swapped them.

“Right,” Ron says slowly. “You can’t see…”

“Oh my god, seriously?” Harry says. “Why didn’t you tell me, Ron?”

He hears Dean give a snort of laughter.

“I’ll go first, I suppose, and you can… bullshit mine,” Ron mumbles. “There’s a blob a bit like a bowler hat,” he says. “Maybe you’re going to work for the Ministry of Magic… But this way it looks more like an acorn… what’s that… ‘A windfall, unexpected gold.’ Excellent, you can lend me some. And there’s a thing here… that looks like an animal… yeah, if that was its head… it looks like a hippo… no, a sheep…” 

Harry snorts.

“Let me see that, my dear,” Professor Trelawney says suddenly. Everybody goes quiet to listen. “The falcon… my dear, you have a deadly enemy.” 

“But everyone knows that,” Hermione says in a loud whisper. “Well, they do. Everybody knows about Harry and You-Know-Who.” 

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up. Hermione has never spoken to a teacher like that.

Professor Trelawney ignores her. 

“The club… an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup…” 

“I thought that was a bowler hat,” Ron says. Harry coughs to cover up his laugh.

“The skull… danger in your path, my dear…”

Professor Trelawney gives a sudden scream and Harry jumps once again, scowling. 

“My dear boy — my poor dear boy — no — it is kinder not to say — no — don’t ask me…” 

“What is it, Professor?” Dean says, ignoring her wish. Everybody is gathered around Harry, Ron, and Hermione to get a better look at Harry’s cup.

“My dear… you have the Grim.”

Harry blinks slowly, even as most of the class gasps in horror. “I have the what?”

“The Grim, my dear, the Grim!” Professor Trelawney cries. “The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen — the worst omen — of death!” 

Harry’s stomach gives a lurch, but not even because of the death omen part. That thing that touched his hand in Little Whining… it  _ can’t  _ have been a dog’s nose… there’s no  _ way… _

“I don’t think it looks like a Grim,” Hermione says flatly. 

“You’ll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future.” 

“It looks like a Grim if you do this,” Seamus says, “but it looks more like a donkey from here.”

“When you’ve all finished deciding whether I’m going to die or not!” Harry says loudly. 

“Right, sorry, Harry,” Seamus mumbles sheepishly.

“I think we will leave the lesson here for today,” Professor Trelawney says quietly. “Yes… please pack away your things…” 

Nobody says anything as they all pack their things away.

“Until we meet again,” Professor Trelawney says, “fair fortune be yours. Oh, and dear, you’ll be late next time, so mind you work extra-hard to catch up.” 

All the Gryffindors walk down to Transfiguration together, completely silent. Harry get fed up after about two minutes.

“I’m not going to die,” he says simply.

“You can’t  _ say  _ that, Harry, it’s not necessarily something you plan,” Lavender says, sounding panicked at the thought of Harry’s death.

“Well, obviously, but y’know, considering I wouldn’t even _ see  _ the Grim if it were to appear, I feel like the effects wouldn’t stick,” Harry says. 

“That’s not how that works,” Parvati says.

“How do you know? You aren’t blind and you’ve never seen a Grim.”

“Well — that just  _ can’t  _ be how that works!” Parvati says defensively.

“I’m still not going to die,” Harry says. “And if I do die, you’re allowed to tell my grave that you told me so, but it’s not going to happen, so you won’t get that opportunity. Besides — if I’m supposed to die, it really doesn’t make this year any different from the last two. I mean, first there was Quirrell, and then the Heir of Slytherin thing… I would’ve been kind of shocked if something  _ didn’t _ try to kill me this year.”

“Just because you’re right doesn’t mean you should talk so casually about it,” Hermione says. “People aren’t supposed to expect death every year, Harry.”

“Well, I’m not a normal person, am I?” Harry says. 

“No. But you’re still  _ a  _ person. You really shouldn’t be okay with almost dying every year.”

Harry decides not to mention how he’s been okay with dying since he was very young — way before Hogwarts. He figures it wouldn’t go over well. 

“Okay. That’s valid. But this Grim thing — just forget about it.”

“Fine. But if you do die, I’m not mourning you,” Dean says. 

“No need to go _ that  _ far, Dean, I think I deserve  _ some  _ tears,” Harry says.

“Of course, my bad.”

Eventually, they find Transfiguration and quickly sit down. Harry can tell his little talk didn’t really stop their worry but it helped just a little. Still, though, they clearly aren’t as chipper as normal.

“Really, what has got into you all today?” Professor McGonagall finally asks, a very,  _ very  _ faint trace of worry in her voice. “Not that it matters, but that’s the first time my transformation’s not got applause from a class.” 

Harry almost begins to clap, just because he thinks it might be funny if he did, but he recognizes that now might not be the best time to be a jokester. 

“Please, Professor, we’ve just had our first Divination class, and we were reading the tea leaves, and —” 

“Ah, of course,” Professor McGonagall stops Hermione. “There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?” 

There’s a long moment of silence.

“Me,” Harry finally says, exasperated.

“I see,” Professor McGonagall says. “Then you should know, Potter, that Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues —” 

She pauses and takes a breath.

“Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney…” 

She pauses again and then continues in a matter-of-fact tone that Hermione must base her own off of.

“You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don’t let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in.” 

Hermione laughs and Harry huffs around his own. This talk and Harry’s don’t help the rest of the class much, though, and Harry hears Lavender whisper about Neville breaking his cup right after Professor Trelawney said he would. 

Professor McGonagall holds him back after class, to his surprise. 

“You aren’t going to ambush me with Madam Pomfrey again, are you?” Harry says.

“She worries, that’s all, Potter,” Professor McGonagall says, quite fondly. Harry’s eyebrows shoot up. “And no. I wanted to tell you that when your father was in school, he too had a death prediction of his own.”

“Oh,” Harry says. “But… my dad  _ did  _ die…”

Professor McGonagall sighs, “Potter…”

“Right, sorry, continue.”

“Of course, Professor Trelawney was only a student at the time, but our divination professor before her was also quite taken with the whole… death prediction during the first class,” Professor McGonagall says. “It’s quite a… hook, if that makes any sense. Your father took every class available in his third year, and that included Divination.”

“And he got his death predicted too?” Harry says. “From what I’ve heard about him, I’m sure he thought that was hilarious.”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” she says. “You see, you’re father — he despised Divination.”

“He did?”

“Oh, most definitely. Didn’t believe a lick of it. He thought way too rationally to believe any of it. Your mother, on the other hand, loved it. Studied it from third to seventh year and made an O all four years. Your father requested to be taken out of the class after Yule break.”

Harry laughs, “That goes against every story I’ve heard about them.”

“I almost didn’t believe it myself when they came thundering into my classroom after their first lesson. Your mother was buzzing with excitement for the coming lessons and your father got a few detentions with me for some choice words he threw out about the subject.”

Harry laughs again.

“Now, let’s head to lunch,” she says. “And please, Potter, do tell me what has you so cross with Madam Pomfrey.”

Harry does. And he gets five points taken away from Gryffindor for a few choice words he decides to throw out about the woman. 

When he joins his friends at the Gryffindor table, Hermione is trying to cheer Ron up.

“C’mon, Ron, you heard what Professor McGonagall said,” she says. 

“Harry,” Ron says, his voice low and serious, “do you know if there  _ has  _ been a Grim anywhere around you?”

Harry raises an eyebrow, “Yeah, I saw one outside the Leaky. What the fuck do you want me to say, Ronald?”

_ “Harry,”  _ Hermione smacks his arm with her book.

“It’s just — if there  _ has  _ a Grim anywhere — that’s bad,” Ron says. “My — my uncle Bilius saw one and — and he died twenty-four hours later!” 

“Coincidence,” Hermione says airily.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Ron says, anger taking over the previous fear Harry heard in his voice. “Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!” 

“There you are, then,” Hermione says, in a tone that insinuates she’s better than them, which she is. “They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim’s not an omen, it’s the cause of death! And Harry’s still with us because he’s not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well, I’d better kick the bucket then!” 

“Well… I wouldn’t  _ see  _ it, so really, you don’t have to worry, Ron,” Harry says. 

“I think Divination seems very woolly,” Hermione adds. “A lot of guesswork, if you ask me.” 

“There was nothing woolly about the Grim in that cup!” Ron says hotly. 

“You didn’t seem quite so confident when you were telling Harry it was a sheep,” Hermione says.

“Professor Trelawney said you didn’t have the right aura! You just don’t like being bad at something for a change!”

Hermione slams her book down on the table.

“If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I’m not sure I’ll be studying it much longer! That lesson was absolute rubbish compared with my Arithmancy class!” 

She stands up and storms off.

“She hasn’t been to an Arithmancy class yet,” Ron says faintly.

Harry decides to distract Ron from Hermione with the story about his parents.

After lunch, Hermione rejoins them but her and Ron aren’t talking as they walk down to Hagrid’s hut. Harry tells her the story about his parents too.

“Well, it sounds like your dad was quite a bit more rational than your mum,” she says haughtily.

“I’m not saying either one of them are right, but it’s definitely hard to believe in this stuff when you can’t  _ see  _ it,” Harry says slowly. He doesn’t want to make Ron mad but he thinks it’s important that they both know where he stands on the matter and that he definitely isn’t getting involved with their fight. “Maybe if I had my sight and I saw the tea leaves, I would believe it. But, I don’t. So, honestly, it just sounds like bullshit but that’s because I don’t get that proof like you two do.”

_ “That  _ makes sense, that’s fine,” Ron says. “For all you know, it  _ was  _ a sheep, but I know what I saw and I saw a Grim.”

“And Hermione didn’t,” Harry says. “Two different opinions. It’s fine. Just shut up.”

Thankfully, they listen. 

“C’mon, now, get a move on!” Hagrid calls as they get closer to his hut. “Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin’ up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!” 

Hermione, on instinct, loops her arm with Harry’s. Harry almost goes to grab Ron’s elbow but his cane is in that hand. They follow Hagrid.

“Everyone gather ‘round the fence here!” he tells them. Hermione tugs Harry to a stop. “That’s it — make sure yeh can see — now, firs’ thing yeh’ll want ter do is open yer books —” 

“How?” Malfoy’s voice drawls.

“Eh?” Hagrid says.

“How do we open our books?” Malfoy repeats. Harry’s own book is in his hand.

“Hasn’ — hasn’ anyone bin able ter open their books?” Hagrid says, sounding sad and disappointed. Harry immediately feels bad. He had gone back to his room after buying his other school books and wrapped his belt around the book. He hadn’t even attempted to open it. 

“Yeh’ve got ter stroke ‘em,” Hagrid says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Look —” 

He takes Harry’s book and demonstrates this for the class before handing it back to Harry. It lays open and quiet in his hands.

“Oh, how silly we’ve all been!” Malfoy says. “We should have stroked them! Why didn’t we guess!” 

“I — I thought they were funny,” Hagrid says uncertainly.

“Oh, tremendously funny!” Malfoy says. “Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!” 

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry says through his teeth. He really wants Hagrid’s first lesson to be a success.

“Righ’ then,” Hagrid says, a little less cheerful than before, “so — so yeh’ve got yer books an’… an’… now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I’ll go an’ get ‘em. Hang on…” 

“God, this place is going to the dogs,” Malfoy says loudly when Hagrid walks away. “That oaf teaching classes, my father’ll have a fit when I tell him —” 

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry says again.

“Careful, Potter, there’s a Dementor behind you —” 

Lavender gives a squeal that shuts everybody up and directs their attention back to whatever Hagrid is doing.

“Hippogriffs!” Hagrid says happily. “Beau’iful, aren’ they?” 

Harry blinks slowly.

“So,” Hagrid says, “if yeh wan’ ter come a bit nearer…” 

Nobody moves except Ron, Hermione, and Harry.

“Now, firs’ thing yeh gotta know abou’ Hippogriffs is, they’re proud,” Hagrid tells them. “Easily offended, Hippogriffs are. Don’t never insult one, ‘cause it might be the last thing yeh do. Yeh always wait fer the Hippogriff ter make the firs’ move. It’s polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an’ yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh’re allowed ter touch him. If he doesn’ bow, then get away from him sharpish, ‘cause those talons hurt.” 

“Right — who wants ter go first?” 

Everybody remains silent. Harry thinks he might be the only one with a valid reason.

“No one?” Hagrid says.

“I’ll do it,” Harry says, stupidly. 

“Harry, your tea leaves,” Parvati whispers behind him.

“Mate…” Ron trails off, already accepting that this is happening and he can’t stop it. 

Harry leaves his cane with Hermione, divides his magic up like he would if he were playing Quidditch, and climbs over the fence.

“Right then — let’s see how yeh get on with Buckbeak,” Hagrid says, sounding reluctant himself to let Harry do this.

Harry rolls his sleeves up. 

“Keep yer eyes up, Harry,” Hagrid says quietly. “Don’ blink too much.”

Harry does as he’s told.

“Tha’s it,” Hagrid says. “Tha’s it, Harry… now, bow.” 

Harry, now nervous because of Hagrid’s nervousness, reluctantly does. He gives a short bow and then raises his head back up. 

Nothing happens.

“Ah,” Hagrid says, worry more pronounced now. “Right — back away, now, Harry, easy does it —” 

Hagrid cuts himself off. Harry feels the hippogriff move.

“Well done, Harry!” Hagrid roars. “Right — yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!”

Harry takes a few steps forward and reaches out slowly, patting the hippogriff’s beak lightly.

The class breaks into applause and Harry quickly takes his magic out of his hearing, wincing. He can deal with it at Quidditch matches but he hadn’t been prepared for the sudden noise.

“Righ’ then, Harry,” Hagrid says. “I reckon he migh’ let yeh ride him!”

“Huh?” Harry’s eyes widen. The class gives a few giggles. “Yeah, maybe, but, um… I think I’ve done as much as my death prediction will allow me today. Thanks for the offer, though, Hagrid.”

Hagrid gives a hearty chuckle, “Very well. Who else wants a go?”

Harry stands back against the fence, his cane in one hand and his wand in the other. He’s getting pretty good at twirling it around his fingers. 

“This is very easy,” Malfoy’s voice says loudly about ten minutes later. “I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it… I bet you’re not dangerous at all, are you?” he says to the hippogriff, his voice changing slightly as if he’s talking to a pet. “Are you, you great ugly brute?”

Malfoy suddenly lets out a high pitched scream. Harry jumps.

“I’m dying!” Malfoy yells. “I’m dying, look at me! It’s killed me!” 

“Yer not dyin’!” Hagrid says, obviously panicking. “Someone help me — gotta get him outta here —” 

The class follows Hagrid up to the castle.

“They should sack him straight away!” Pansy cries.

“It was Malfoy’s fault!” Dean snaps. 

When they enter the castle, Pansy announces that she’s going to go see if he’s going and runs off. 

“You think he’ll be alright?” Hermione says nervously as they head up to their common room.

“Course he will,” Harry rolls his eyes. “Madam Pomfrey can mend cuts in about a second.” Of course, he says this reluctantly. He’s still quite angry with the woman, he’s only giving her the benefit of the doubt. 

“That was a really bad thing to happen in Hagrid’s first class, though, wasn’t it?” Ron says. “Trust Malfoy to mess things up for him…” 

When they enter the Great Hall for dinner, Hagrid isn’t sitting at the staff table.

“They wouldn’t fire him, would they?” Hermione says.

“They’d better not,” Ron mumbles.

Harry pokes at his food, frowning.

“Well, you can’t say it wasn’t an interesting first day back,” Ron mutters bitterly. 

Later, they attempt to do Professor McGonagall’s homework, but their worries about Hagrid distract them.

“There’s a light on in Hagrid’s window,” Ron says suddenly. “If we hurried, we could go down and see him. It’s still quite early…” 

“I don’t know,” Hermione says slowly.

There’s an awkward pause.

Harry huffs, “I’m allowed to walk across the grounds. Sirius Black hasn’t got past the Dementors yet, has he?” 

So, they head down to Hagrid’s hut quickly. 

“‘Spect it’s a record,” Hagrid says when they enter. “Don’ reckon they’ve ever had a teacher who lasted on’y a day before.” 

“You haven’t been fired, Hagrid!” Hermione says.

“Not yet,” Hagrid says miserably. “But’s only a matter o’ time, I’n’t, after Malfoy…” 

“How is he?” Ron asks as they all sit down. “It wasn’t serious, was it?” 

“Madam Pomfrey fixed him best she could,” Hagrid says, “but he’s sayin’ it’s still agony… covered in bandages… moanin’…” 

“He’s faking it,” Harry says quickly. “Madam Pomfrey can mend anything. She regrew half my bones last year. Trust Malfoy to milk it for all it’s worth.” Again, this is said reluctantly.

“School gov’nors have bin told, o’ course,” Hagrid says. “They reckon I started too big. Shoulda left Hippogriffs fer later… done flobberworms or summat… Jus’ thought it’d make a good firs’ lesson’s all my fault…” 

“It’s all Malfoy’s fault, Hagrid!” Hermione says. 

“We’re witnesses,” Harry says. “You said Hippogriffs attack if you insult them. It’s Malfoy’s problem that he wasn’t listening. We’ll tell Dumbledore what really happened.” 

“Yeah, don’t worry, Hagrid, we’ll back you up,” Ron says.

Hagrid suddenly pulls the two boys into a bone crushing hug.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink, Hagrid,” Hermione says firmly.

“Ah, maybe she’s right,” Hagrid says, letting go of them and standing up, following Hermione outside. Harry hears a loud splash.

“What’s he done?” Harry says when Hermione walks back in.

“Stuck his head in the water barrel,” Hermione says.

Hagrid comes back in, dripping water everywhere.

“That’s better,” he says. Harry feels water hit him and assumes Hagrid just shook his head. “Listen, it was good of yeh ter come an’ see me, I really —” 

Hagrid stops dead. Harry swallows.

“WHAT D’YEH THINK YOU’RE DOIN’, EH?” Hagrid suddenly roars, making Harry jump a foot in the air. “YEH’RE NOT TO GO WANDERIN’ AROUND AFTER DARK, HARRY! AN, YOU TWO! LETTIN’ HIM!” 

Hagrid grabs Harry’s arm, pulling him off his chair, and drags him outside.

“C’mon!” Hagrid says angrily. “I’m takin’ yer all back up ter school an’ don’ let me catch yeh walkin’ down ter see me after dark again. I’m not worth that!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stan ron, the only one who noticed hermione was acting weird  
> 'ron steadies him on instinct' cuties  
> sir cadagon is so amazing i love him  
> 'dean you go' 'no, neville you go' 'absolutely not, seamus you go' these boys are disasters and they deserve the world  
> also stan lavender and parvati i love them and their characters and we will NOT be shaming them for SHIT because we love and appreciate all woman in this series (except for umbridge)  
> harry taking advantage of the cushioning charm to just WHACK is so funny  
> also hermione always being on his left and ron always being on his right is like so important to me for no reason at all. it's just where they belong.  
> 'if you do not have the Sight' harry was sitting there like 😐  
> 'rude' 'no offense' I LOVE THEM  
> harry is such a little shit just 'wait seriously i'm blind? fuck ron why didn't you tell me?' amazing  
> that thing, darling, was sirius black, resident drama queen, and also yes, the grim  
> 'Harry decides not to mention how he’s been okay with dying since he was very young' brb CRYING  
> lesbian minnie lesbian minnie lesbian minnie lesbian minnie lesbian min-  
> harry just ruining minnie's story with 'but he did die' is SO FUNNY he was just like 'uhhhhh'  
> don't mind me just ✨dropping my obscure headcanons about lily and james into my story✨because i love james being a very rational thinker and hating divination and lily being super open minded and loving it. also it adds to the whole ✨prophecy✨ thing because lily would be super hardcore about it and james would just be like 'lily 😐 this is bullshit honey what are we doing'  
> harry being SO angry with madam pomfrey and madam pomfrey not knowing why but being just as angry back is Peak Sibling Energy and it's a dynamic i didn't expect to happen but i'm so glad it did  
> harry just decided over the summer that cursing was a thing that he wants to do and we love him for it  
> harry being the mediator between these two is how it is in every universe, no matter the endgame relationship  
> 'oh yeah terribly funny, really witty. god this place has gone to the dogs. wait until my father hears that dumbledore's got this oaf teaching classes-' 'shut up malfoy' 'hoohoohoo'  
> 'already accepting that this is happening and he can't stop it' ron is a Tired Mom and we love to see it  
> harry said 'HUH? absolutely not i want to die but actually i don't'  
> harry very reluctantly complimenting madam pomfrey's skills because he's angry with her is, again, Peak Sibling Energy  
> anyway  
> dropping my social media's :) wattpad is ahoeinplainsight, tumblr is ahoeinplainsight, tiktok is jigglyhufflepuff  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	7. The Boggart in the Wardrobe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey... how y'all doin? i'm alive. i suddenly felt extremely unmotivated to continue with this story but not to worry, i'm back and motivated again! please enjoy this chapter :)
> 
> if i need to put any trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

Malfoy reappears in classes on Thursday morning. He struts into Potions, the class already halfway done, and is acting as though he’s the heroic survivor of a battle. Harry, who  _ is  _ the heroic survivor of  _ two  _ battles, thinks it’s extremely infuriating.

“How is it, Draco?” Harry hears Pansy Parkinson say. “Does it hurt much?” 

“Yeah,” Malfoy says, forcing himself to sound in pain. 

“Settle down, settle down,” Snape says lazily.

Harry scowls. If  _ he  _ had walked into Potions late, it would’ve been a much bigger deal.

Malfoy sets his cauldron up at Ron and Harry’s table. Today, they’re making a Shrinking Solution, and so far, Harry and Ron have been dutifully preparing their ingredients, and it doesn’t seem to be going half bad.

“Anyway,” Ron mumbles, continuing his and Harry’s conversation (gossiping) that was rudely interrupted by Malfoy, “Somebody told me she —”

“Sir,” Malfoy suddenly calls, “sir, I’ll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm —” 

“Weasley, cut up Malfoy’s roots for him,” Snape says.

Ron’s knee hits the underside of the table in his attempt to keep his anger at bay. “There’s nothing wrong with your arm,” he hisses.

“Weasley, you heard Professor Snape; cut up these roots.” 

Harry scowls to himself and continues crushing up his rat spleen. 

“Professor,” Malfoy drawls, “Weasley’s mutilating my roots, sir.” 

“Ron,” Harry hisses.

Ron kicks his shin under the table.

“Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley.” 

“But, sir —!” 

_ “Now.” _

“And, sir, I’ll need this shrivelfig skinned,” Malfoy adds, sounding all too pleased with himself. 

“Potter, you can skin Malfoy’s shrivelfig.”

Harry seizes Malfoy shrivelfig, skins it as quickly as he can, and then throws it back at Malfoy.

“Idiot,” Harry mumbles, kicking Ron back. 

“Dumbass,” Ron knocks his elbows against Harry’s arm.

“You’re the one who —”

“Seen your pal Hagrid lately?” Malfoy says quietly, interrupting them.

“None of your business,” Ron says shortly. Both his and Harry’s temper are boiling over at the moment and it’s honestly a miracle neither of them have snapped yet.

“I’m afraid he won’t be a teacher much longer,” Malfoy says, faking sadness. “Father’s not very happy about my injury —” 

“Keep talking, Malfoy, and I’ll give you a real injury,” Ron growls.

“– he’s complained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic. Father’s got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this” — he gives a huge sigh — “who knows if my arm’ll ever be the same again?” 

“So that’s why you’re putting it on,” Harry says through his teeth, “to try to get Hagrid fired.” 

“Well,” Malfoy says, lowering his voice to a whisper,  _ “partly, _ Potter. But there are other benefits too. Weasley, slice my caterpillars for me.”

“Do it right,” Harry hisses.

“I  _ am,”  _ Ron grits.

“Orange, Longbottom,” Harry hears Snape say, momentarily distracting him from Ron. “Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn’t you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn’t I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?” 

“Please, sir,” Hermione says, “please, I could help Neville put it right —” 

“I don’t remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger,” Snape says coldly. Harry scowls. “Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly.” 

“What the  _ fuck?”  _ Harry mumbles.

“Hey, Harry.” Harry turns his head toward Seamus. “Have you heard?  _ Daily Prophet _ this morning — they reckon Sirius Black’s been sighted.” 

“Where?” Harry and Ron both say, anger quickly forgotten. 

“Not too far from here,” Seamus says, sounding excited. “It was a Muggle who saw him. ‘Course, she didn’t really understand. The Muggles think he’s just an ordinary criminal, don’t they? So she phoned the telephone hotline. By the time the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone.” 

“Not too far from here…” Ron repeats. 

“I can  _ feel  _ you looking at me,” Harry says.

“Yeah, I am. Feel it a bit more, you might understand what I’m — Merlin,  _ what, _ Malfoy? Need something else skinned?”

Malfoy doesn’t answer this question and instead directs his words at Harry. “Thinking of trying to catch Black single-handed, Potter?”

“Why does everybody think that?” Harry mumbles.

“Of course, if it was me,” Malfoy says quietly, “I’d have done something before now. I wouldn’t be staying in school like a good boy, I’d be out there looking for him.” 

“What are you talking about, Malfoy?” Ron says. 

“Don’t you  _ know, _ Potter?” Malfoy breathes, absolutely delighted to have knowledge that Harry doesn’t. 

“Know what?” 

Malfoy laughs. “Maybe you’d rather not risk your neck. Want to leave it to the Dementors, do you? But if it was me, I’d want revenge. I’d hunt him down myself.” 

_ “What are you talking about?”  _ Harry says angrily, but at that moment, Snape calls, “You should have finished adding your ingredients by now; this potion needs to stew before it can be drunk, so clear away while it simmers and then we’ll test Longbottom’s…” 

Harry helps Ron pack their things away and then walks over to the sink with him.

“What did Malfoy mean?” Harry says out of the corner of his mouth. “Why would I want revenge?”

“He’s just trying to get you to do something stupid, don’t listen to him,” Ron says. 

“No, he  _ knows  _ something, Ron, he has to.”

“What does that mean?”

“Black worked for Vol —”

Ron smacks his shoulder.

“—  _ demort,”  _ Harry says firmly, “and so did Malfoy’s parents —”

“That’s a rumor.”

“Well, it’s probably true!” Harry hisses. “And his parents probably tell him everything, the spoiled fucking — and even if he is just trying to make me do something stupid, he has to know  _ something.” _

“Careful,” Ron says instead of spurring Harry on with questions, “he might hear you.”

“I don’t  _ care,  _ he is a spoiled fucking brat,” Harry shakes his head. “And don’t try to convince me I’m wrong —”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were going to.”

“You need an outlet for all that anger, I swear.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ron scoffs. 

“Everyone gather ‘round,” Snape says when the end of class gets nearer, “and watch what happens to Longbottom’s toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don’t doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned.” 

“I’m pretty sure this is illegal,” Harry mutters. Ron pinches his waist. Harry stomps on Ron’s foot. 

There’s a small  _ pop.  _ The Gryffindors burst into applause and Harry assumes that Trevor the Toad just turned into Trevor the Tadpole. 

“Five points from Gryffindor,” Snape says, ruining the celebration. “I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed.” 

Harry, with Malfoy’s words still in the back of his mind, is positively seething as they walk to lunch.

“Five points from Gryffindor for the potion being  _ right!”  _ he hisses. “Hermione, you should’ve lied or something, told him Neville did on his own, that’s ridiculous!”

“Hermione?” Ron says. He grabs Harry’s sleeve and tugs him to a stop.

“Huh?” Harry turns around.

“She was right behind us,” Ron says. 

“Did she walk ahead?” Harry turns back around.

“There she is,” Ron says. Harry hears her stop in front of them, panting slightly. “How did you do that?”

“What?” Hermione says, starting to walk with them.

“One minute you were right behind us, the next moment, you were back at the bottom of the stairs again.” 

“What?” Hermione says. “Oh — I had to go back for something. Oh no —” 

Harry winces when he hears what sounds like a dozen books hit the floor. 

“Why are you carrying all these around with you?” Ron asks. 

“You know how many subjects I’m taking,” Hermione says breathlessly. “Couldn’t hold these for me, could you?” 

“But —” Ron laughs. “You haven’t got any of these subjects today. It’s only Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon.” 

“Oh yes,” Hermione says vaguely. “I hope there’s something good for lunch, I’m starving,” she adds, and she starts walking again. 

“Harry… d’you get the feeling Hermione’s not telling us something?”

After lunch, which was full of Ron trying to wheedle information out of Hermione and Hermione ignoring him, they head to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Lupin isn’t there when they arrive, so they sit down and pull their books, quills, and parchment out.

“Oh!” Ron perks up a few minutes later. “So, as I was saying in Potions, somebody told me that she —”

Ron is again interrupted. 

“Good afternoon,” Professor Lupin says. Ron sighs. “Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today’s will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands.” 

Harry hopes that Lupin at least knows what he’s doing, because the last practical lesson they had in DADA was when Lockhart set a bunch of pixies on them and then left Harry, Ron, and Hermione to deal with them. 

“Right then,” Lupin says when everybody is ready. “If you’d follow me.”

Confused but more than a little interested, the class gets to its feet and follows Lupin out of his classroom. They walk for a moment before stopping. There’s a moment of silence before the familiar voice of Peeves begins to sing.

“Loony, loopy Lupin. Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin —” 

“I’d take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves,” Lupin says pleasantly, a stark difference from how most of the professors would act if Peeves started making fun of them. “Mr. Filch won’t be able to get into his brooms.” 

Peeves blows a loud raspberry.

Lupin huffs a laugh. “This is a useful little spell,” he tells the close. “Please watch closely.” 

Lupin clears his throat,  _ “Waddiwasi!” _

Harry only hears Peeves zoom away, cursing, but he imagines that whatever just happened was amazing, because Dean loudly says, “Cool, sir!” 

“Thank you, Dean,” Lupin says. “Shall we proceed?” 

They continue to walk and a minute later, Lupin directs them into a room. Harry leans his cane against the wall next to the doorway and mumbles to Ron not to let him forget it. Ron hums.

“Leave it open, Lupin. I’d rather not witness this,” Snape’s voice says. Harry jumps and then scowls.

A second later, he continues talking. “Possibly no one’s warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear.” 

Harry’s scowl deepens. It’s bad enough that Snape bullies Neville is in his own class, but to do it in front of other professors is just unbelievable.

“I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation,” Lupin says, “and I am sure he will perform it admirably.” 

Snape leaves without another word, closing the door with a snap.

“Now, then,” Lupin says. They follow him to the end of what Harry now assumes in the staffroom. Something gives a sudden wobble. “Nothing to worry about. There’s a Boggart in there.” 

Harry thinks he remembers Hermione ranting to him about boggarts one time, though he can’t remember any of the details.

“Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces,” Lupin says. “Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks — I’ve even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved into this wardrobe yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice. 

“So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a Boggart?” 

“It’s a shape-shifter,” Hermione says. “It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most.” 

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Lupin says. “So the Boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. It does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when it is alone, but when I let it out, it will immediately become whatever each of us most fears. 

“This means that we have a huge advantage over the Boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?” 

Harry jumps. He hadn’t expected to be called on.

“Um… there’s too many of us,” he says after a moment. “It wouldn’t know what to change into.”

“Precisely,” Lupin says. Harry smiles. “It’s always best to have company when you’re dealing with a Boggart. It becomes confused. Which should it become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make that very mistake — tried to frighten two people at once and turned itself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening. 

“The charm that repels a Boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a Boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing. 

“We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please…  _ riddikulus!”  _

“Riddikulus!” the class says together. 

“Good,” Lupin says. “Very good. But that was the easy part, I’m afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville.” 

The wardrobe gives another wobble. 

“Right, Neville,” Lupin says. “First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?” 

There's a beat of silence.

“I didn’t catch that, Neville, sorry,” Lupin says cheerfully, a little too happy to be asking about somebody’s worst fear. 

“Professor Snape,” Neville says, his voice barely a whisper.

Harry takes a deep breath. Ron scoffs next to him.

“Professor Snape… hmmm… Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?” 

“Er — yes,” Neville says nervously. “But — I don’t want that Boggart to turn into her either.” 

“No, no, you misunderstand me,” Lupin says, amused. “I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?” 

Neville pauses and then says, “Well… always the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress… green, normally… and sometimes a fox-fur scarf.” 

“And a handbag?” Lupin says, as if he knows Lady Longbottom personally. With the way Lady Longbottom was talking to Harry that time they met in Diagon Alley, he assumes that Lupin actually  _ does  _ know her personally.

“A big red one.”

“Right then,” Lupin says. “Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind’s eye?” 

“Yes?”

“When the Boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape,” Lupin says. “And you will raise your wand — thus — and cry ‘Riddikulus’ — and concentrate hard on your grandmother’s clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress, with that big red handbag.” 

Harry snorts as the class starts laughing.

“If Neville is successful, the Boggart is likely to shift its attention to each of us in turn,” Lupin says. “I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical…” 

Harry purses his lips. Is it worth it to put the work in to think about that when he won’t even be able to see the Boggart? Too bad, he’s already thinking about it. What scares him the most? His first though is Voldemort, but that’s dumb, so he continues thinking. His mind sifts through a lot of things — his relatives, his cupboard, dogs — but ultimately, it lands on dementors. Specifically, that cold, horrible feeling he felt on the train when one entered his compartment. The feeling of his magic, his very being, being sucked out of him. He shivers. 

“Everyone ready?” Lupin says. Harry’s eyes widen. No, he absolutely isn’t ready. How can you make a dementor  _ amusing? _

“Neville, we’re going to back away. Let you have a clear field, all right? I’ll call the next person forward… Everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot —”

“On the count of three, Neville,” Lupin says once the class has backed away from him. “One — two — three — now!” 

Harry, though, backs up until he’s behind Hermione and Ron, desperately trying to hide himself from view. He hears Neville shakily say,  _ “R — r — riddikulus!”  _ and the class bursts into laughter. Lupin calls Parvati up next, then Seamus, then Dean, and then Ron. Harry becomes aware of the fact that he’s out in the open and definitely up next. He scrambles for his wand but Lupin jumps in front of him and says, almost lazily,  _ “Riddikulus.”  _ He then calls Neville back up. Harry, regardless of the fact that he didn’t even want to face the Boggart in the first place, feels offended. Very offended. 

“Excellent!” Lupin cries. “Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone… Let me see… five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the Boggart — ten for Neville because he did it twice… and five each to Hermione and Harry.” 

“Harry and I didn’t do anything,” Hermione protests.

“You and Harry answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Hermione,” Lupin says. “Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on Boggarts and summarize it for me… to be handed in on Monday. That will be all.” 

Harry tucks his wand back into his robes and follows his friends. Ron hands him his cane as they walk out of the door and Harry harshly takes it from him.

“Whoa,” Ron says. “Who pissed in your knickers?”   


“Ronald,” Hermione hisses.

“You didn’t see that? Professor Lupin didn’t let me take on the Boggart,” Harry says angrily.

“Well… I mean, you —”

“I am perfectly clear on the fact that I am blind, Ronald, thank you very much,” Harry growls. “But it is also perfectly clear that I am more than capable of handling myself!”

“Professor Lupin was probably just being careful,” Hermione says gently. “Who knows? Maybe it had nothing to do with you being blind. Maybe he just didn’t want to see what you feared the most.”

That’s more likely than what Harry is currently thinking, he can at least recognize that, but it doesn’t do anything to make him less angry. Seeing that nothing she’ll say will change his mind, Hermione changes the subject. “So, somebody told you that who did what, Ronald?”

“Oh, right —”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "harry, who is the heroic survivor of two battles, thinks it’s extremely infuriating." this boy needs to be humbled lmao  
> ron and harry gossiping is everything i need in life  
> my favorite thing about ron and harry is that they just resort to abusing each other when angry with one another  
> "I can feel you looking at me." "Yeah, I am. Feel it a bit more, you might understand what I’m --" draco was sitting across from them like "👁👄👁 um do y'all need a moment"  
> harry said "hold on let me sherlock holmes this real quick"  
> harry calling draco a spoiled brat is so amazing. i love him  
> "you need an outlet for all that anger, i swear" ron-  
> harry just "i'm pretty sure this is illegal" ahahsgah this boy is so fucking done with snape's bullshit  
> ron being the only one who notices hermione is acting weird is still amazing. go white boy go!  
> i just really want to know the reason behind the loony loopy lupin song. what did remus do that peeves witnessed and decided 'oh yeah, this kid's fucking insane'  
> "Lupin says cheerfully, a little too happy to be asking about somebody’s worst fear." the american public school system in a nutshell  
> i like to imagine that remus has tea with augusta sometimes. because, obviously, he was friends with alice and frank, and i bet augusta loved remus and always asked frank when she would see him again and i just... anything to not have remus be alone for twelve years, anything  
> remus said "i don't want to see voldemort rn" and harry said "i will literally kill you and your entire family how dare you" and i love that for both of them  
> you just KNOW ron, harry, and hermione Talked Shit all the time. everytime they fought, ron would amass this massive pile of gossip and as soon as they all made up, he'd start laying it out for them and harry and hermione would be so into it too i love them  
> anyway  
> hopefully i'll get the next chapter out sooner lmao but i hope you liked this one  
> dropping my social media's :) wattpad is ahoeinplainsight, tumblr is ahoeinplainsight, tiktok is jigglyhufflepuff  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	8. The Flight of Beatrice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no fat phobia in this series 😌  
> lots of talk about harry's past abuse in this chapter folks  
> if i need to put any other trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

DADA quickly becomes everybody’s favorite class, excluding Malfoy and his friends, who’s only reason for not liking Professor Lupin seems to be that his robes are frayed. After Harry’s little temper tantrum (Ron’s words, not Harry’s) about the boggart, he was angry with Lupin for a total of about a half of a lesson. Now, he’s definitely Harry’s favorite teacher but, obviously, he’s not going to admit that, so he’s stuck just begrudgingly complimenting Lupin when Ron or Hermione say something.

Harry’s other classes, however, are nowhere near as good as Lupin’s. Snape is in a much worse mood than usual and it’s most definitely because of the story of Neville’s boggart, which had spread like wildfire after the class. He’s bullying Neville much worse than normal and it’s really testing Harry's ability not to lose his shit.

Divination was a bad idea in Harry’s book. Of course, he only took it to have the class with Ron, but he’s starting to regret not taking Arithmancy or Runes, especially because Runes actually sounds interesting compared to  _ using your inner eye.  _ The way Hermione talks about it makes Harry very mad about his class choice. Parvati and Lavender have started speaking to Harry in hushed voices, as if he’s on his deathbed, and that’s really not helping.

Care of Magical Creatures, after the action packed first class, has now become very dull. Hagrid seems to have lost his confidence. They’ve been looking after flobberworms since that first lesson and they have to be some of the most boring creatures in existence.

At the start of October, though, Harry gets something else to focus on: Quidditch. The season is fast approaching and the Thursday after the start of the month, Oliver calls a meeting to discuss tactics.

“This is our last chance —  _ my _ last chance — to win the Quidditch Cup,” Oliver tells them, a note of desperation in his voice. He’s a seventh year now, meaning it really  _ is  _ his last chance, and Harry thinks he deserves to win it. “I’ll be leaving at the end of this year. I’ll never get another shot at it. 

“Gryffindor hasn’t won for seven years now. Okay, so we’ve had the worst luck in the world — injuries — then the tournament getting called off last year… But we also know we’ve got the  _ best — ruddy — team — in — the — school,” _ he says, some of his usual manic determination returning to him.

“We’ve got three  _ superb _ Chasers. We’ve got two  _ unbeatable _ Beaters.” 

“Stop it, Oliver, you’re embarrassing us,” Fred and George say together.

“And we’ve got a Seeker who has  _ never failed to win us a match!” _ Oliver says proudly. “And me,” he adds a second later. 

“We think you’re wonderful too, Oliver,” George says.

“Oh yeah, wonderful Keeper,” Harry says, grinning.

“The point is,” Oliver continues, “the Quidditch Cup should have had our name on it these last two years. Ever since Harry joined the team, I’ve thought the thing was in the bag. But we haven’t got it, and this year’s the last chance we’ll get to finally see our name on the thing…” 

“Oliver, this year’s our year,” Fred says.

“We’ll do it, Oliver!” Angelina says. 

“Definitely,” Harry says.

Full of determination to make Oliver’s last year his best yet, they begin practicing three times a week. Despite the weather getting colder and wetter, Harry’s thoughts are never swayed from winning the Quidditch Cup. Usually, they practice with a Crowd Cheering Charm that Oliver managed to find that simulates the sounds of the crowd so Harry can train his ears to hear over it, but now they’ve started practicing with rain sounds and crowd sounds. To make it fair across the board, the rest of the team manages to find charms that limit their vision just like a storm would in a regular game, and now everybody is honing their skills to match the predicted weather conditions on game day.

One evening, Harry returns to the common room, soaked and cold to the bone but happy with how practice went, to find everybody buzzing with excitement.

“What’s happened?” he asks Ron and Hermione when he finds them.

“First Hogsmeade weekend,” Ron tells him offhandedly, seemingly focused on whatever homework he’s currently doing. “End of October. Halloween.” 

“Excellent,” Fred says from behind Harry. “I need to visit Zonko’s. I’m nearly out of Stink Pellets.” 

Harry sighs and collapses into the chair next to Ron.

“Harry, I’m sure you’ll be able to go next time,” Hermione tells him, apparently not as focused as Ron is, which is rare. “They’re bound to catch Black soon. He’s been sighted once already.” 

“Black’s not fool enough to try anything in Hogsmeade,” Ron says, still not totally in the conversation. “Ask McGonagall if you can go this time, Harry. The next one might not be for ages —” 

_ “Ronald!” _ Hermione says sharply. “Harry’s supposed to stay in  _ school _ —” 

“He can’t be the only third year left behind,” Ron says, finally coming out of his focus to fight with Hermione. “Ask McGonagall, go on, Harry —” 

“Yeah, I think I will,” Harry says, nodding. 

Harry hears Hermione breathe in to start scolding them both but she stops, a small  _ oof  _ leaving her.

“Does he have to eat that in front of us?” Ron says. There’s the sound of shuffling papers and Harry imagines Ron is trying to build a wall between him and Crookshanks with his homework.

“Clever Crookshanks, did you catch that all by yourself?” Hermione coos. 

“Just keep him over there, that’s all,” Ron mumbles, already getting back into his focused state. “I’ve got Scabbers asleep in my bag.” 

“What are you working on?” Harry asks with a yawn.

“Astronomy,” Ron tells him. That would be why he’s actually focusing and doing it on his own — Astronomy is one of Ron’s favorite classes and the only one he’s always confident he’ll get an O on. He says he used to stargaze with Bill and Charlie all the time, though he doesn’t go out so often anymore since they moved to Egypt and Romania. “Have you done yours?”

“No. I was gonna get Dean to draw it for me,” Harry shrugs. 

“What's that about drawing I hear?” Dean’s voice floats across the common room.

“My star chart,” Harry tells him.

“Oh, yes!” Dean exclaims, earning laughter from a few people around them. “Bring it here, buddy, bring it —”

“OY!” Ron suddenly shouts, shooting up from his seat. Harry jumps. “GET OFF, YOU STUPID ANIMAL!” 

Ah. Crookshanks.

“Ron, don’t hurt him!” Hermione squeals.

“CATCH THAT CAT!” Ron yells a second later. Harry hears someone make a mad dash for Crookshanks but judging by the thud he hears, they miss. 

Harry rushes over with his friends when they both leave their spots by the fire, confused but very curious.

“Look at him!” Ron says furiously to Hermione. “He’s skin and bone! You keep that cat away from him!” 

“Crookshanks doesn’t understand it’s wrong!” Hermione says, her voice shaking. Harry feels bad but keeps his mouth shut. If he defends Ron, Hermione will be mad at him, and if he defends Hermione, Ron will be mad at him. He can’t win either way. “All cats chase rats, Ron!” 

“There’s something funny about that animal!” Ron declares. “It heard me say that Scabbers was in my bag!” 

“Oh, what rubbish,” Hermione says. “Crookshanks could smell him, Ron, how else d’you think —” 

“That cat’s got it in for Scabbers!” Ron says. Harry hears a few people start to giggle and struggles to keep his own face straight at the sound of it. “And Scabbers was here first, and he’s ill!” 

With that, Ron marches off toward the direction of boy’s dorms. 

Ron is still angry with Hermione the next day and barely speaks throughout Herbology. He and Hermione are working on the same Puffapod while Harry and Neville work nearby.

“How’s Scabbers?” Harry hears Hermione ask timidly a little bit into class.

“He’s hiding at the bottom of my bed, shaking,” Ron says angrily. 

“Careful, Weasley, careful!” Professor Sprout cries and Harry makes the educated guess that Ron just dropped his Puffapod beans onto the floor.

They have Transfiguration next and Harry is distracted from his planning of his argument for Professor McGonagall by a disturbance at the front of the line.

“What’s the matter, Lavender?” Hermione asks when they joins the group surrounding the crying girl. 

“She got a letter from home this morning,” Parvati whispers. “It’s her rabbit, Binky. He’s been killed by a fox.” 

“Oh,” Hermione says sadly, “I’m sorry, Lavender.” 

“I should have known!” Lavender cries. “You know what day it is?” 

“Er —” 

“The sixteenth of October! ‘That thing you’re dreading, it will happen on the sixteenth of October!’ Remember? She was right, she was right!” 

In the few seconds of silence between this and Hermione breathing in to talk, Harry feels his stomach drop because he knows he’s not going to be able to stop the upcoming disaster.

“You — you were dreading Binky being killed by a fox?” Hermione says carefully. Harry sighs quietly.

“Well, not necessarily by a  _ fox,” _ Lavender says, “but I was  _ obviously _ dreading him dying, wasn’t I?” 

“Oh,” Hermione says. Harry thinks he’s in the clear, but then Hermione says, “Was Binky an  _ old _ rabbit?” 

“Okay, Hermione,” Harry places his hands on her shoulders and attempts to pull her away from everybody. “How about we walk away?”

“I’m just saying. Look at it logically —”

“Hermione!” Harry interrupts her. “Nobody wants to do that.”

_ “Fine,”  _ Hermione shrugs his hands off her shoulder and walks past him. “But I still —”

“Leave it alone, Hermione!” Harry says loudly.

“I am!” she says just as loudly.

“What is all this ruckus about?” Professor McGonagall’s voice says.

“Nothing, Professor,” Harry says sweetly. 

“Of course,” Professor McGonagall says dryly. “Inside, sit down.”

As the class goes on, Harry starts worrying more and more about what he’s going to say to Professor McGonagall about his Hogsmeade form, but it’s her who brings it up first at the end of the class after the bell rings.

“One moment, please!” she calls. “As you’re all in my House, you should hand Hogsmeade permission forms to me before Halloween. No form, no visiting the village, so don’t forget!” 

“Please, Professor, I — I think I’ve lost —” 

“Your grandmother sent yours to me directly, Longbottom,” Professor McGonagall says. “She seemed to think it was safer. Well, that’s all, you may leave.” 

“Ask her now,” Ron hisses. 

“Oh, but —” Hermione starts. 

“Go for it, Harry,” Ron says, ignoring Hermione. 

Harry waits until everybody else leaves before he musters all of his confidence and walks up to Professor McGonagall’s desk.

“Yes, Potter?” 

He forces all of the jokester part of his personality to the forefront of his mind and begins speaking.

“Professor,” he says. “Professor McGonagall, Minnie, if you will —”

“Potter.”

“Right. My uncle didn’t sign my permission form,” he tells her. “We had an agreement, you see, and I… didn’t uphold my part of the agreement, which wasn’t necessarily my fault, so, personally… I think it’s a bit unfair that I don’t get to go. To Hogsmeade, that is.” 

There’s a brief moment of silence before she says, “You heard what I said, Potter. No form, no visiting the village. That’s the rule. It would be unfair to the other students without their forms signed if I let you go without yours.”

“Well, that’s what I was getting to. If  _ you  _ signed it, then that would not be a problem.”

“The form clearly states that the parent or guardian must give permission.” 

“Oh, I guess I didn’t see that part,” Harry says. 

Professor McGonagall sighs and Harry fights a grin. “I am not your parent or guardian, Potter, therefore I cannot sign the form. I’m sorry, but that is my final word.”

Harry is no longer amused. “That’s not fair. What about the other kids whose forms didn’t get signed because their relatives are —”

Harry cuts himself off. He’s never said it out loud, that what his relatives do to him is abuse, and the sudden realization that literally  _ nobody  _ knows about it has him in shock.

“Never mind,” he says quietly. “That’s fine, I get it.”

He quickly turns around and leaves Professor McGonagall’s classroom, Ron and Hermione following. They try to ask him what’s wrong but when he doesn’t answer after a third time, they give up. He’s in a foul mood the rest of the day and Ron gives up trying to cheer him up halfway through dinner. 

When Halloween arrives, Harry accompanies Hermione and Ron to the entrance hall where they promise to bring him a bunch of things back. Malfoy taunts him about the dementors and then Harry heads back to the common room.

He wakes up Beatrice, who is definitely not happy about him doing so, and climbs through the portrait hole after telling her the password.

“Harry! Harry! Hi, Harry!” 

Harry gives Colin his best smile but it feels very fake.

“Aren’t you going to Hogsmeade, Harry? Why not? Hey — you can come and sit with us, if you like, Harry!” 

“Er — no, thanks, Colin,” Harry says, grimacing. “Maybe another time. I’ve, uh, actually got some work I need to do in the library.”

Normally, he might actually go sit with Colin and his friends, but he’s really not in a good mood today and he fears he might be unnecessarily mean to them if he does sit with them. So, after lying, he has no choice but to turn around and walk right back out the portrait hole.

“What was the point of waking me up, then?” Beatrice calls after him.

“Sorry,” he says.

Harry doesn’t normally traverse the castle without Ron or Hermione at his side, but with the help of a portrait or two, he gets himself on the right track to the library, because he  _ does  _ have work to do. Halfway there, though, he changes his mind. He  _ really  _ doesn’t feel like working today.

“What are you doing?” Filch’s voice suddenly says.

Harry jumps and turns around before shrugging, “Nothing.”

“Nothing!” Filch growls. “A likely story! Sneaking around on your own — why aren’t you in Hogsmeade buying Stink Pellets and Belch Powder and Whizzing Worms like the rest of your nasty little friends?” 

“No form,” he says simply.

“Well, get back to your common room where you belong!” Filch snaps.

Harry walks past him. He doesn’t head back to the common room, though, instead climbing a staircase. The thought of visiting Hedwig has just popped into his head when he hears his name. He takes a few steps back.

“What are you doing?” Lupin’s voice says. “Where are Ron and Hermione?” 

“Hogsmeade,” Harry says.

“Ah,” Lupin says. There’s a moment of silence before he says, “Why don’t you come in? I’ve just taken delivery of a Grindylow for our next lesson.”

“A what?” Harry says, entering Lupin’s office.

“Water demon,” Lupin says. “We shouldn’t have much difficulty with him, not after the Kappas. The trick is to break his grip. They have abnormally long fingers. Strong, but very brittle.” 

Harry hums.

“Cup of tea?” Lupin says. “I was just thinking of making one.” 

“All right,” Harry says, feeling awkward.

“Sit down,” Lupin says. “I’ve only got teabags, I’m afraid — but I daresay you’ve had enough of tea leaves?” 

Harry blinks. “How did you know about that?” 

“Professor McGonagall told me,” Lupin says. “You’re not worried, are you?” 

“No,” Harry shrugs. “I can necessarily  _ see  _ the Grim, anyway.”

Lupin laughs quietly and Harry wonders how many times Lupin has heard that type of joke from his father. Thinking of his father brings him back to one of the many reasons today is not a good day. It’s Halloween and it’s the first time Harry has been alone with his thoughts… the first time the anniversary of his parents’ death has actually bothered him… 

“Anything worrying you, Harry?” Lupin says. Some of Harry’s feelings must’ve shown on his face.

“No,” Harry lies. He takes a sip of his tea. It’s still scalding but he doesn’t wince. He’s used to having to drink his tea as soon as it’s out of the kettle, otherwise he’d risk Dudley taking it from it. He’s never had to drink cold tea, though, which is something he thinks he’s lucky about.

“Yes,” he says suddenly a few seconds later, setting his tea down. “That day we fought the boggart — why didn’t you let me fight it?”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Well, I thought that would’ve been obvious, Harry.”

Harry scowls, his anger about the situation fully restored. “Just because I’m blind —”

“No, no,” Lupin says, amused, “you misunderstand me. I know fully well you could’ve taken on that boggart better than perhaps anybody in the room, but I assumed it would take the form of Lord Voldemort. I didn’t think Voldemort materializing in the staffroom would’ve been good.”

Harry is shocked for two reasons. One, Lupin thinks he would’ve done better than anybody in the class. Two, Lupin said Voldemort’s name.

“But clearly, I was wrong.”

“Well, I thought of Voldemort but… in the two times I’ve met him, he really wasn’t all that terrifying,” Harry says. “I’m scared of him but… he’s not my biggest fear. And then I cycled through a few things but I… I thought about those dementors and I knew it would be that. I hate that feeling…”

“I see,” Lupin says quietly. “Well… I do believe having a dementor materialize in the staffroom would not have been ideal either. Perhaps if I find another one, I’ll invite you to take a go at it without other students around.”

There’s a knock on the door that stops Harry from moving onto the next topic on his mind.

“Come in.”

The door opens and somebody walks in.

“Ah, Severus,” Lupin says. “Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?” 

Harry takes a sip of his tea innocently.

“I was just showing Harry my Grindylow,” Lupin says pleasantly.

“Fascinating,” Snape says. “You should drink that directly, Lupin.” 

“Yes, yes, I will.”

“I made an entire cauldronful,” Snape says. “If you need more.” 

“I should probably have some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus.” 

“Not at all,” Snape says. With that, he leaves Lupin’s office.

Harry raises a curious eyebrow.

“Professor Snape has very kindly concocted a potion for me,” Lupin says. “I have never been much of a potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex.” 

Harry blinks. “Why…?”

“I’ve been feeling a bit off-color,” Lupin answers the unfinished question. “This potion is the only thing that helps. I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape; there aren’t many wizards who are up to making it.” 

Harry nods slowly. Maybe if Ron was here, he’d be more worried about the potion and what could be in it, but he currently has other things on his mind.

“It’s Halloween,” he says unnecessarily.

There’s a pause.

“Yes. It is Halloween,” Lupin says.

“I’ve, um… I’ve never been alone. On Halloween, that is. Or — well, I  _ have  _ but not since coming to Hogwarts and finding out…” he shakes his head. “You were friends with my dad. And I’ve only got Madam Pomfrey to tell me stories and I’m angry with her right now so I thought… maybe I could show you my photo album and you could tell me some of the stories behind the photos I have. Because I’ve never seen them, obviously, and Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t know about the pictures but…  _ you  _ would. Wouldn’t you?”

Lupin clears his throat, “Well, it depends on the pictures, but… I would be more than happy to tell you stories about your mother and father. May I ask, though, why you’re angry with Madam Pomfrey?”

“She didn’t tell me Sirius Black was a murderer,” Harry says simply. “Told me story after story about him but not once did she mention it and I think that would’ve been an important bit of information to know about my dad’s best friend.”

“Ah, I see,” Lupin says. “Yes, Madam Pomfrey always did have quite a big soft spot for Sirius, I imagine it was difficult on her when everything happened.”

Harry softens and then frowns, only feeling bad about his anger for a moment,  _ “Still.” _

“Still,” Lupin agrees. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about, Harry.”

Harry tenses at his tone.

“Professor McGonagall conveyed her… worries to me and thought I might be better equipped to talk to you about it,” Lupin says carefully. “When you were speaking to her about your Hogsmeade form, you mentioned something about it being unfair to you and other students whose relatives are… and, well, we sort of filled in the gap.”

“Professor, I don’t —” Harry doesn’t know where he was going with that. He shuts his mouth.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Harry, but… if the word we put in that gap is correct, it is important that we know so we can attempt to do something.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “Wha — do something? What? Take — take me away from the Dursleys?”

“Perhaps.”

Harry mouths wordlessly for a moment before he forces out, “The word was abusive, wasn’t it?”

“Yes… Yes, that was the word.”

Harry feels a burning in the back of his eyes that he hasn’t felt in a long time. “I — you really think you could get away from them?”

“Well, I certainly hope we can,” Lupin says. “I’ll talk to Professor McGonagall about it as soon as possible. And I do apologize, but we’ll have to go to Madam Pomfrey for a full medical scan.”

Harry lets out a wet laugh. “Yeah, that’s —” he reaches up and wipes his eyes. “That’s fine. Whatever it takes, I suppose.”

Later, when Hermione and Ron get back and find Harry in an unusually good mood, they ask no questions and instead enjoy it. Ron, Harry notices, seems quite happy about Harry’s improved mood and this only improves it even more. 

The feast is even more delicious after receiving the news he did earlier that day. Even Malfoy is unable to sway his mood with his taunting. 

When they head up to the common room, Ron stops Harry from continuing to walk a little bit away from the portrait hole.

“Why isn’t anyone going in?” Ron says to Hermione.

“Let me through, please,” Percy’s voice says loudly. “What’s the holdup here? You can’t all have forgotten the password — excuse me, I’m Head Boy —” 

Percy falls silent and his silence spreads throughout the entire group like a wave. 

“Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quick,” Percy says sharply. 

“What’s going on?” Ginny’s voice says from next to Harry.

Dumbledore arrives a moment later, sweeping through the crowd easily. Harry, Ron, and Hermione move closer to the portrait hole.

“Oh, my —” Hermione grabs Harry’s wrist. 

“What?” Harry hisses.

“We need to find her,” Dumbledore says. “Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle.” 

“You’ll be lucky!” the cackling voice of Peeves says.

“What do you mean, Peeves?” Dumbledore says calmly.

Peeves wouldn’t dare taunt the headmaster of the school he wrecks havoc in, so his voice adopts an oily tone that is no better than his cackle. “Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn’t want to be seen. She’s a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful,” he says happily. “Poor thing,” he adds, not convincing at all. 

“Did she say who did it?” Dumbledore says. 

“Oh yes, Professorhead,” Peeves says, obviously delighted to have this information when nobody else does. “He got very angry when she wouldn’t let him in, you see.” Peeves pauses for dramatic effect. “Nasty temper he’s got, that Sirius Black.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ron saying that harry threw a temper tantrum after the boggart is Peak Ron and Harry  
> 'it’s really testing Harry's ability not to lose his shit' give this boy a damn break  
> harry in runes harry in runes harry in runes harry in runes harry in-  
> the team limiting their vision and having rain sounds over their practices really makes me happy like they saw what harry had to do to train himself to be a better quidditch player and then said 'okay bet' and JOINED HIM the quidditch team makes me so happy  
> ron loving astronomy because of bill and charlie makes me 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺  
> dean being so excited to draw harry's star chart for him oh my god these boys are gonna be the death of me just 'bring it here, buddy' I LOVE THEM  
> harry having to be like 'hermione just... stop' and hermione being SO angry at him for it is so funny  
> 'professor. professor mcgonagall. minnie, if you will' god i love this boy  
> harry not immediately assuming snape poisoned remus only because ron isn't there? it's more likely than you think  
> so... remember when i said i wouldn't be taking harry away from the dursleys? well... i lied. this was a spur of the moment decision that might screw me over later but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. so yeah! he's not gonna live with the dursleys anymore, woohoo! :)  
> anyway  
> dropping my social media's :) wattpad is ahoeinplainsight, tumblr is ahoeinplainsight, tiktok is jigglyhufflepuff  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	9. Grim Defeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it's been another month. hey!  
> i know the grim part of the title doesn't make sense because harry wouldn't know that it's the grim but SHHHH  
> lots of mentions of harry's past abuse  
> if i need to put any other trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

Professor Dumbledore sends the Gryffindors back to the Great Hall, where they’re joined by the very confused Hufflepuffs, Slytherins, and Ravenclaws minutes later.

“The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle,” Professor Dumbledore tells them all. “I’m afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately,” he adds to, most likely, Percy. “Send word with one of the ghosts.” 

There’s a brief moment of silence before Dumbledore says, “Oh, yes, you’ll be needing…” 

Harry hears a lot of shuffling and rustling.

“Sleep well,” Professor Dumbledore says before the door the Great Hall shuts. 

Immediately, the hall breaks into excited chattering as the Gryffindors start telling everybody what happened.

“Everyone into their sleeping bags!” Percy shouts. “Come on, now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!” 

“C’mon,” Ron says, grabbing Harry’s wrist. They all grab a sleeping back and drag them away from the rest of the students.

“Do you think Black’s still in the castle?” Hermione whispers. 

“Dumbledore obviously thinks he might be,” Ron says. 

“It’s very lucky he picked tonight, you know,” Hermione says as they climb into their sleeping bags fully dressed. “The one night we weren’t in the tower…” 

“I reckon he’s lost track of time, being on the run,” Ron says. “Didn’t realize it was Halloween. Otherwise he’d have come bursting in here.” 

Harry thinks Black knows exactly what the date is. Halloween is not an easily forgettable date, especially when something so monumental happened on said holiday. Harry gets the sudden thought of what would happen if Halloween turned into Harry Potter day and gives a snort. Ron smacks his arm and this only spurs him on. 

“The lights are going out now!” Percy shouts. “I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!”

A few minutes later, Harry whispers what made him laugh to Ron, and it makes Ron begin to snicker, leading Hermione to huff and hiss at both of them that there is  _ nothing funny about this situation, you absolute children.  _

Once every hour, a professor appears to check on everybody, and at around three in the morning, Ron hisses that Dumbledore is here. Hermione smacks them both and tells them to pretend to be asleep, telling Harry that Dumbledore and Percy are nearby.

“Any sign of him, Professor?” Percy whispers.

“No. All well here?” 

“Everything under control, sir.” 

“Good. There’s no point moving them all now. I’ve found a temporary guardian for the Gryffindor portrait hole. You’ll be able to move them back in tomorrow.” 

“And the Fat Lady, sir?” 

“Hiding in a map of Argyllshire on the second floor. Apparently she refused to let Black in without the password, so he attacked. She’s still very distressed, but once she’s calmed down, I’ll have Mr. Filch restore her.” 

Harry hears the door of the Great Hall open again and more footsteps.

“Headmaster?” Snape’s voice says quietly. Harry listens even more intently. “The whole of the third floor has been searched. He’s not there. And Filch has done the dungeons; nothing there either.” 

“What about the Astronomy tower? Professor Trelawney’s room? The Owlery?” 

“All searched…” 

“Very well, Severus. I didn’t really expect Black to linger.” 

“Have you any theory as to how he got in, Professor?” Snape asks.

Harry moves his head slightly, exposing his other ear so he can hear even clearer.

“Many, Severus, each of them as unlikely as the next.”

“You remember the conversation we had, Headmaster, just before — ah — the start of term?” Snape says.

“I do, Severus,” Dumbledore says, his voice showing clear warning. Harry furrows his eyebrows. 

“It seems — almost impossible — that Black could have entered the school without inside help. I did express my concerns when you appointed —”

“I do not believe a single person inside this castle would have helped Black enter it,” Dumbledore says firmly, his tone of voice making it quite clear that he’s done discussing this. Snape doesn’t say anything. 

“I must go down to the dementors,” Dumbledore says, his voice pleasant once more. “I said I would inform them when our search was complete.” 

“Didn’t they want to help, sir?” Percy says. 

“Oh yes,” Dumbledore says coldly. “But I’m afraid no Dementor will cross the threshold of this castle while I am Headmaster.” 

Harry waits until he hears the Great Hall doors open and close at least twice before he turns his head toward Ron.

“What do you think that was about?” Ron mutters.

For the next few days, all anybody can talk about is Sirius Black. Harry was a part of this on day one but by the time three days have gone by, he’s tired of it. He can’t help but think that the more drama Black stirs up, the more distracted Remus will get, and nothing will ever come of his declaration. 

Sir Cadagon has replaced Beatrice as the person covering the Gryffindor portrait hole and nobody is happy about this, considering he changes the password as least twice a day. According to Percy, though, he’s the only one brave enough to guard the hole. Speaking of Percy, he’s taken to tailing Harry everywhere he goes, no doubt acting on his mother’s orders. 

On a particularly bad day — one where Harry can do nothing but think that Remus was just  _ joking  _ with him, that he didn’t  _ mean it  _ — Professor McGonagall calls him into her office.

“There’s no point hiding it from you any longer, Potter,” she says, her voice grim. “I know this will come as a shock to you, but Sirius Black —” 

“— is after me?” Harry finishes. “I know. I overheard Ron’s dad telling his mum.”

There’s a beat of silence and then Professor McGonagall claps her hands together, “I see! Well, in that case, Potter, you’ll understand why I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be practicing Quidditch in the evenings. Out on the field with only your team members, it’s very exposed, Potter —” 

“We’ve got our first match on Saturday!” Harry says, completely outraged. “I’ve got to train, Professor!” 

There’s another long moment of silence. She finally sighs, “Well… goodness knows, I’d like to see us win the Cup at last… but all the same, Potter… I’d be happier if a teacher were present. I’ll ask Madam Hooch to oversee your training sessions.” 

Harry breathes a sigh of relief. Quidditch is about the only thing distracting him from everything that’s going on in his life, he couldn’t imagine limiting how often he practices it.

“Now, I understand that Professor Lupin has spoken to you?” 

Harry tenses, licks his lips, and says quietly, “Yes. We spoke on Halloween.”

“What all about?”

“He said… that he hopes he can get me out of the Dursleys. That I need to get a full medical scan from Madam Pomfrey, for… whatever reason.”

“If you have any long-lasting or improperly healed injuries — as well as past, properly healed injuries — a full medical scan would show us what they are and who caused them. It would help your case tremendously.”

Harry remains quiet for a long moment before he says, “Professor… who… who left me with them?”

Professor McGonagall inhales. Not sharply, but clearly, she hadn’t expected the question. 

“Harry…” it’s the first time Harry has heard her say his first name, and it’s the first time he’s ever heard her sound so… maternal. 

Harry feels his lip begin to quiver, “Why?”

“I did try to stop him,” she says quietly. “I sat there all day, I watched them… I knew they were horrible, but he wouldn’t listen. And I went back, I watched over you, and I reported back to him, and yet…”

Harry feels anger take over his body, pushing every other emotion he’s feeling away. “Why did you wait so long to involve me? We could’ve started doing this when I was eleven!”

“No, we couldn’t have,” she says sharply, still extremely maternal, a stark difference from her usual sharp voice. “Would you seriously have confessed to anything when you were eleven? Tell me, if I had asked you when you were eleven how your life at home was, what would you have said?”

Harry sees her point, he  _ does,  _ but that doesn’t take away from the fact that she didn’t  _ say anything.  _

“You could’ve pointed it out!”

“We did not know each other, it would’ve been extremely inappropriate, and you would not have trusted me at all. I’m still not sure if you trust me.”

That hurts more than he thinks it should. It hurts because  _ Harry  _ isn’t sure if he trusts her. He’s not sure if he trusts  _ anybody  _ except for Ron and Hermione. Not even  _ Hagrid.  _

“You have to understand, Harry,” she says, her voice softer now, “I  _ wanted  _ to say something, I wanted so badly to. But… I knew I had to wait for you to realize on your own. And that might’ve happened last year, but this year was the most appropriate to do this, I think.”

Harry can think of nothing to say except, “I trust you.”

Neither of them believe it, but neither of them say that out loud. 

“We’ll do the medical scan after your match on Saturday.”

Harry nods wordlessly.

“Run along, I’m sure you have work to be doing.”

That Thursday, during their final practice before the match, Oliver gives them very bad news.

“We’re not playing Slytherin!” he tells them, obviously extremely furious. “Flint’s just been to see me. We’re playing Hufflepuff instead.” 

“Why?” everyone immediately demands.

“Flint’s excuse is that their Seeker’s arm’s still injured,” Oliver grits. “But it’s obvious why they’re doing it. Don’t want to play in this weather. Think it’ll damage their chances…” 

There’s a distant rumble of thunder.

“There’s nothing wrong with Malfoy’s arm!” Harry says furiously. “He’s faking it!” 

“I know that, but we can’t prove it,” Oliver says bitterly. “And we’ve been practicing all those moves assuming we’re playing Slytherin, and instead it’s Hufflepuff, and their style’s quite different. They’ve got a new Captain and Seeker, Cedric Diggory —” 

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie all begin to giggle. Fred gives a scoff and George starts snickering, most likely at his brother.

“What?” Oliver demands.

“He’s that tall, good-looking one, isn’t he?” Angelina says. George stops snickering. 

“Strong and silent,” Katie adds, prompting the girls to begin giggling again. 

“He’s only silent because he’s too thick to string two words together,” George says, sounding quite miffed. 

“I don’t know why you’re worried, Oliver, Hufflepuff is a pushover,” Fred says. “Last time we played them, Harry caught the Snitch in about five minutes, remember?” 

“We were playing in completely different conditions!” Oliver shouts. The girls stop laughing. “Diggory’s put a very strong side together! He’s an excellent Seeker! I was afraid you’d take it like this! We mustn’t relax! We must keep our focus! Slytherin is trying to wrong-foot us! We must win!” 

“Oliver, calm down!” Fred says, sounding alarmed. “We’re taking Hufflepuff very seriously.  _ Seriously.” _

Harry genuinely can’t tell if he’s joking or not. 

The next day, tensions are extremely high. The wind is howling and the rain thunders against every surface it touches. Harry honestly can’t even  _ fathom  _ why playing Quidditch during a thunderstorm seems like a good idea, and he spends all of Friday worrying himself into a frenzy about getting struck by lightning. Oliver keeps coming up to him in between his classes and telling him Cedric’s tactics, but Harry has been too preoccupied with  _ the possibility of getting struck by lighting, seriously, this is so dangerous!  _ that he doesn’t ever listen. The third time this happens, he tunes out for too long, and when he comes back to reality, he realizes he’s ten minutes late to DADA. He hears Oliver telling him that Cedric has a very fast swerve as he sprints away.

“Sorry I’m late, Professor Lupin,” he says when he enters the classroom.

“This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter,” Harry tenses, feeling very much like a pissed off cat when he hears Professor Snape’s voice, “so I think we’ll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down.” 

Harry doesn’t move.

“Where’s Professor Lupin?” he says. He imagines that if he  _ was  _ a cat, he would be hissing right now.

“He says he is feeling too ill to teach today,” Snape says. “I believe I told you to sit down?” 

Harry, again, doesn’t move. His thoughts flicker back to the potion Snape brought Remus on Halloween.

“What’s wrong with him?” 

“Nothing life-threatening,” Snape says ominously. “Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty.” 

He walks slowly toward Ron’s hissing voice and sits down. He leans his cane on his desk.

“As I was saying before Potter interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far —” 

“Please, sir, we’ve done Boggarts, Red Caps, Kappas, and Grindylows,” Hermione says quickly, “and we’re just about to start —” 

“Be quiet,” Snape says coldly, “I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin’s lack of organization.”

“He’s the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we’ve ever had,” Dean says boldly, earning a murmur of agreement from the rest of the class.

Snape sounds angry when he speaks. “You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you — I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and Grindylows. Today we shall discuss —” the sound of page turning fills the classroom for a moment, “— werewolves.”

“But, sir,” Hermione says, “we’re not supposed to do werewolves yet, we’re due to start Hinkypunks —” 

“Miss Granger,” Snape says, his voice eerily calm, “I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394.” He pauses briefly. _ “All of you! Now!” _

Harry mutters insults under his breath as he pulls his book out. Ron, next to him, hides a laugh with a cough.

“Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?” Snape says.

Harry hears the familiar sound of Hermione’s hand brushing against her thigh as it shoots into the air. 

“Anyone?” Snape says, clearly ignoring Hermione. “Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn’t even taught you the basic distinction between —” 

“We told you,” Parvati interrupts him, “we haven’t got as far as werewolves yet, we’re still on—” 

_ “Silence!” _ Snape growls. “Well, well, well, I never thought I’d meet a third-year class who wouldn’t even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are…” 

“Please, sir,” Hermione says, “the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf —” 

“That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger,” Snape says. “Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all.” 

Harry can practically  _ feel  _ Hermione’s embarrassment. Harry scowls. It’s different when a student calls her a know-it-all, and her response to that is usually always, “Smart is not an insult!” and it usually always succeeds in making the person acknowledge their wrongness, but a teacher calling her a know-it-all…

Ron, who calls Hermione a know-it-all at least once a day, says loudly, “You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don’t want to be told?” 

He has a point and Harry very vehemently agrees, but Snape clearly doesn’t. Harry hears his footsteps approach their desk slowly.

“Detention, Weasley,” Snape says quietly, very close to them. “And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed.” 

When he turns around to go back to Remus’ desk, Harry hears his cane clatter to the ground, very obviously knocked over on purpose. Harry blinks, extremely shocked at such a childish move coming from a  _ teacher.  _

Before he can stop himself, Harry says quietly, “You knocked my cane over, Professor.”

Ron kicks his shin, but Harry isn’t going to stop now that he’s said something.

“Excuse me, Potter?”

“You knocked my cane over,” Harry says again. “Could you please pick it up?”

“Harry,” Ron hisses.

To Harry’s surprise, though, Snape walks over and does as he asked. Unsurprisingly, though, he says, “Detention,” a second later.

Harry thinks it was definitely worth it.

When the bell finally rings at the end of class, Snape holds them back.

“You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Monday morning. It is time somebody took this class in hand. Weasley, Potter, stay behind, we need to arrange your detentions.”

Ron gets told he’s going to be scrubbing bedpans in the hospital wing without magic and Harry gets told he’ll be scrubbing cauldrons without magic. Ron is reasonably pissed off about this and calls Snape quite a few names that make Hermione say,  _ “Ron!”  _ very indignantly a few times.

Harry, the next morning, wakes up at four am to Peeves blowing cold air in his face. When he turns over to go back to sleep, thoughts of getting struck by lightning fill his head once more. He huffs and stands up. He gets dressed, grabs his Nimbus Two Thousand and leaves his dorm. He feels something brush against his legs and bends down to grab it just as the door shuts behind him. He picks Crookshanks up around the middle and takes him downstairs with him, talking quietly to him as he walks. “You really aren’t helping yourself by doing this. There’s plenty of other rats in Hogwarts, why don’t you go and eat them and leave Scabbers alone?”

Crookshanks meows. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry shakes his head.

He spends the next few hours in front of the fire, thinking about everything going on in his life and, every few minutes, thinking about how likely it is that he gets struck by lightning. Crookshanks lays peacefully in his lap, purring and not trying to sneak back upstairs.

When he thinks it’s a reasonable time to leave, he stands up and goes to breakfast.

He wakes up a bit more over a bowl of porridge and as he starts on his toast, the rest of the team shows up.

“It’s going to be a tough one,” Oliver says.

“We’ll make it,” Alicia says soothingly. “Eat something, Ollie, you need it.”

“What have I told you about that nickname?”

“Percy calls you it —”

Fred and George burst out laughing. 

“Stop it, you two,” Angelina says, obviously trying not to laugh as well.

“My  _ mom  _ calls me that, shut up,” Oliver says defensively. 

“Well, so does Percy,” Katie says.

Oliver sighs.

When they get to the locker room, the mood diminishes. They silently get dressed into their Quidditch robes and wait for Oliver to give his usual pep talk, but it never comes. 

When they walk out onto the field, Harry’s mind manages to look on the bright side. They had been training for this weather, so even though Hufflepuff’s tactics are different from Slytherin’s, they do have the advantage of knowing how to navigate through the rain. One thing they didn’t account for, though, was the wind. When Harry hears Madam Hooch’s faint whistle, he rises in the air, and curses when he realizes how big of an obstacle flying in the wind is. 

He can just barely hear Lee’s commentary through the roar of the wind and rain, though, and for that, he’s grateful. When he remembers to direct some of his magic toward his hearing, he can hear Lee pretty clearly. So, one ear toward Lee and the other searching desperately for the fluttering of wings, he manages to play pretty normally. 

He loses track of time after about five minutes. At some point, though, he hears Oliver calling his name, and he quickly lands, his feet splashing in the mud on the ground.

“We’re fifty points up, but if you don’t catch that Snitch soon, we’ll be playing into the night,” Oliver tells him.

“This is bloody ridiculous,” Harry finally voices what has been on his mind for days. “They should’ve rescheduled the match. Can you imagine if we hadn’t been practicing with those charms?”

“We’re all thinking that, Haz,” Fred reassures him. “But there’s no going back now. You just worry about the Snitch, all right?”

Harry sighs and nods.

“Everybody good?” Oliver says.

“Are  _ you?”  _ Alicia says.

“I’m fine,” he says.

“Then we are too,” Alicia says. 

“Okay. Let’s get back out there.”

Full of fresh determination, Harry rises into the air. He begins flying around the pitch in a loop — his usual tactic — and he does this for about five or ten minutes. He’s just about to fly toward the middle of the pitch when he hears something over everything else he’s focused on.

_ Barking? _

His fingers slip and his broom dips about a foot before he grabs it and strains his ears. The sound is gone and Harry is extremely confused.

“Harry!” Oliver’s voice breaks him out of his confused daze. “Harry, behind you!”

Harry doesn’t think, he just turns his broom around and pelts toward the other side of the pitch. 

He, once again, strains his ears, but this time it’s for the fluttering of the Snitch. But something strange begins to happen. The roar of the wind dies away and an eerie, horrible silence fills Harry’s ear. He moves his head around, for once thankful that he doesn’t have to keep his eyes on the Snitch, and is just about to yell for one of his teammates when he feels it. That horrible, all consuming cold…

The screaming fills his head again, horrible, horrible screaming. 

_ “Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!” _

“Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside, now…” 

“Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead —”

Harry feels very faint, but he can’t pass out  _ now,  _ he needs to help her. She’s going to be murdered, but he can stop it, he can stop it…

_ “Not Harry! Please… have mercy… have mercy…” _

A cold voice is laughing and the woman is still screaming when Harry finally faints.

“Lucky the ground was so soft.” 

“I thought he was dead for sure.” 

“At least he didn’t break a bone this time.”

Harry can hear the voices speaking around him but none of them make sense. He doesn’t have a clue where he is, but he does know that everything  _ hurts.  _ Or, aches, really.

“That was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” 

Harry’s mind finally catches up and his eyes snap open.

“Harry!” Fred immediately says. “How’re you feeling?” 

Harry doesn’t answer, too caught up in his mind. He heard that barking, then he was going after the Snitch, and then… dementors. 

_ Was that the Grim he heard? _

No, that’s idiotic. Why would the omen of death  _ bark? _

“What happened?” he says, sitting up quickly. They all gasp but he doesn’t do anything to assure them that he’s fine.

“You fell off,” Fred says. His voice is slightly shaky and Harry begins to feel bad for being so abrasive. “Must’ve been — what — fifty feet?” 

“We thought you’d died,” Alicia says. 

Harry mouths wordlessly for a moment, feeling very overwhelmed at having so many people depending on his well being. “The match,” he finally says weakly. “What happened? Are we doing a replay?” 

There’s a horrible beat of silence.

“We didn’t — lose?” 

“Diggory got the Snitch,” George says. “Just after you fell. He didn’t realize what had happened. When he looked back and saw you on the ground, he tried to call it off. Wanted a rematch. But they won fair and square… even Oliver admits it.” 

Hearing no input from Oliver himself, Harry asks, “Where is he?”

“Still in the showers,” Fred says, his voice back to it’s normal tone. “We think he’s trying to drown himself.” 

Harry rests his forehead on his knees and grips his hair in his fists.

Fred grabs his shoulder and shakes it, “C’mon, Harry, you’ve never missed the Snitch before.”

“There had to be one time you didn’t get it,” George says.

“It’s not over yet,” Fred says, squeezing his shoulder and dropping his hand. “We lost by a hundred points.” 

“Right? So if Hufflepuff loses to Ravenclaw and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin…” 

“Hufflepuff’ll have to lose by at least two hundred points,” George says.

“But if they beat Ravenclaw…” 

“No way, Ravenclaw is too good. But if Slytherin loses against Hufflepuff…” 

“It all depends on the points — a margin of a hundred either way —” 

Harry doesn’t have the heart to tell them that he really isn’t worrying about the match right now. Of course, he  _ is,  _ he just lost his first game of Quidditch, but… it’s really the dementors he’s worrying about. That voice… 

Madam Pomfrey comes by ten minutes later and forces the team out of the hospital wing.

“We’ll come and see you later,” Fred promises. He squeezes his shoulder again. “Don’t beat yourself up Harry, you’re still the best Seeker we’ve ever had.” 

After they all leave, Harry hears shuffling by his bed.

“Dumbledore was really angry,” Hermione speaks for the first time, her voice extremely shaky. Harry hadn’t realized she and Ron were with the team, but he’s thankful that they didn’t leave. “I’ve never seen him like that before. He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the Dementors. Shot silver stuff at them. They left the stadium right away… He was furious they’d come onto the grounds. We heard him —” 

“Then he magicked you onto a stretcher,” Ron pipes up. “And walked up to school with you floating on it. Everyone thought you were…” his voice fades away. 

Harry feels his lip start to quiver and he silently wonders how many times he’s going to be on the verge of tears this year.

“Did someone get my Nimbus?” he says, scrambling for a different topic of conversation. He hastily wipes his eyes. Ron and Hermione don’t comment on him almost crying. In fact, they don’t say anything.

“What?” he says.

“Um… well, when you fell off, it sort of… blew away,” Hermione says hesitantly.

“And?” he says, dreading the answer.

“And it hit — it hit — oh, Harry — it hit the Whomping Willow.” 

Harry’s stomach drops. He takes a deep breath,  _ “And?” _

“Well, you know the Whomping Willow,” Ron says quietly. “It — it doesn’t like being hit.” 

“Professor Flitwick brought it back just before you came around,” Hermione says, her voice very small.

When Harry hears the broken pieces of his faithful broomstick clatter together by his feet, he’s unable to stop his tears. Ron and Hermione are definitely in shock as Harry begins to sob uncontrollably, but Ron quickly recovers. He crawls onto the bed with Harry and wraps his arms around Harry and Harry is too worked up to care about how weird the position is, he just buries his face in Ron’s chest and  _ cries. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> harry and ron laughing about harry potter day is so Them  
> "i did express my concerns to you when you appointed —" SHUT THE FUCK UP SNAPE  
> harry thinking that remus didn't mean it and that he was joking is so fucking sad i can't-  
> '"I trust you." Neither of them believe it, but neither of them say that out loud.' this is literally the saddest thing i've ever written.   
> george being jealous over angelina thinking cedric is handsome is my favorite thing ever. (also yes i'm keeping angie and george they make me happy) also what i had in mind for fred being annoyed is that lee thinks cedric is attractive and fred is ✨jealous✨  
> harry being sensible and going 'why are we playing a sport that requires us to be high in the air during a thunderstorm' and then making himself SO WORRIED about getting struck by lightning is so relatable  
> harry comparing himself to a cat is hilarious  
> this entire lesson scene with snape piss me off endlessly  
> stan ron weasley  
> "You knocked my cane over. Could you please pick it up?" god harry is such a badass  
> crookshanks and harry crookshanks and harry crookshanks and harry crookshanks and harry crook-  
> i love the gryffindor quidditch team. their dynamic makes me so happy  
> sirius in the stands going BARK BARK BARK and harry just 👁👁 is so funny  
> fred being a worried older brother i just :')  
> writing angst is intoxicating i love it. but also harry needed to cry. boy has gone through so much, he just needed to let it all out, AND he's being hugged by ron while doing it so it's honestly a win win  
> anyway  
> dropping my social media's :) wattpad is ahoeinplainsight, tumblr is ahoeinplainsight, tiktok is jigglyhufflepuff  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	10. NOT AN UPDATE - note

so um i'm putting this story on hiatus :( i'm just not into harry potter anymore at the moment and the fandom has gotten SO toxic since it got popular on tiktok and i'm also very much hyperfixating on marvel right now so instead of leaving you all waiting for an update, i'm just putting this on hiatus

i don't know when i'll be back or if i'll be back :(

i love you all though and thank you SO MUCH for all the support! you've all helped me get so much more confident in my writing and i'm so grateful for it! i'm sorry to do this but i figure it's better than just leaving without a trace 

love you! <3


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